


Safe To Be You and Me

by RumbleFish14



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Childhood Friends, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Lovers, Gallavich, M/M, Past Domestic Violence, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:53:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 39,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26850205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RumbleFish14/pseuds/RumbleFish14
Summary: When a boy moves in next to Ian, they quickly become friends. But he has a secret, one he shares with Ian as their bond grows.When Terry finds out, their friendship is at risk and they have to bide their time until they can be together again.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 33
Kudos: 71





	1. Innocence

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by another fic, unrelated to this, just the wonderful topic got me wanting more. 
> 
> This story will happen in parts, the first part they are kids, friends, then the second part will be as adults, after a time jump. 
> 
> Just so we are clear, the sexual content DOESN'T happen when they are kids, just as ADULTS. 🙄
> 
> Part 1 ages- Ian 9 Mickey 12  
> Part 2 ages- Ian 20 Mickey 23

Safe To Be You and Me  
Part 1of 3

When Ian was nine, he lived in a two story house on South Wallace. The house was modest for their means, but didn't have nearly enough room for his family. His parents shared a room, although most nights they weren't home until the early morning hours. Fiona, his older sister had her own room because, well, she was the oldest, and a girl. Ian got the pleasure of sharing a room with his brother Lip, and given that they were only two years apart, meant he had a live-in best friend. Little Carl and Debbie, his younger siblings shared the last room. And at five years old, they needed all the room they could spare. 

They were a normal family with normal problems. Sometimes it was money, other times it was the lack of room, living in close quarters tends to put them at odds every now and then. Their parents had jobs, or at least Ian assumed they did because they always came home with plenty of money, although he didn't know where most of it went. They all went to school during the day, then came home and were left up to their own devices until Fiona ended up making dinner for them, then bed time. Only to get up and do it all over again. 

As far as he was concerned they had a good life, better than some. But at nine, he hadn't yet seen what a bad life might look like. Not until a moving van pulled up to the house next to theirs one cold, snowy afternoon. He was already on the front porch because Fiona and Lip were squabbling about why she needed to use the phone all the time and why he could never get any homework done on their laptop while she talked her ear off. 

He hadn't wanted to see it or hear it, so he bundled up in one of Lip's old coats, a scarf that was frayed around the edges from getting caught in the washing machines agitator too many times, and mitch matched gloves, shoved all the snow off the steps to the porch and took a seat. 

Then the moving van rolled up. 

Nothing ever exciting happened on their street. It all stayed the same, so when the van pulled up, Ian was on the edge of his seat, eagerly watching. Hoping that this time, their new neighbors weren't some old couple. The man that lived there before died in the bathroom and the wife, who was by all accounts senile, hadn't noticed his absence for a week after he died. The smell was the worst and it gave the home a bad name, making people cringe when they heard the story and sent them running back to their cars. 

As he watched, a dozen or so movers exited the van, wearing matching uniforms under heavy coats and gloves and cranked open the back and began to lug boxes back and forth inside the house. The contents gave nothing away, not really. Boxes he couldn't make the names on the sides of, a few beds, although two were the same size, like his, which could mean kids.

Kids meant friends. Friends meant freedom. 

What confused him the most was the lack of toys. If those two small beds were meant for children, he expected more to support that. Toys, bikes, balls, that sort of thing. But there was nothing. Nothing to tell him if the kids were boys or girls, or possibly one of each. Nothing to tell him much of anything. 

Within an hour, the movers had finished, got back in their van and drove away without another word. Ian waited, huffing hot air into his gloves to wiggle his fingers back to life, and waited. And waited. He waited until the sun started to set, which was early because winter was in full asshole mode, before an older model SUV rolled up to the house, just as the van did. 

The SUV looked worse than the van in their backyard did. And that thing was just God awful. It didn't even run, and yet, it looked better than the one next door. The paint was all but gone, leaving a rust colored paint job around the entire vehicle. The tires didn't match, one window was busted out and had a black trash bag taped to it to keep the freezing air out. The other windows seemed yellow, which he realized was from smoking when a very mean looking hand with badly done tattoos on his knuckles emerged from the drivers side and flicked a cigarette out into the mushy streets. 

Ian stood, leaning over the icy railing and watched. 

The drivers side door opened first, letting out a monster of a man, one that made him shrink back without meaning to. His scowl might have passed for a smile and his teeth had that same yellowish tint that the windows did. Another cigarette made its way into that snarling mouth and the man took off towards the house like it was on fire. 

Then the passenger side opened, only delicately like it would break off its hinges at any moment. Which, from the looks of the car was a real possibility. This time it was a woman, a beautiful older woman with dark hair and a kind smile, a white smile. She wrapped her knitted sweater around her delicate frame and then opened the back door for whoever it was inside. 

She was nice. He could tell by one look. He bet she smelled like fresh linen and homemade mac and cheese. Which sounded weird, but at his age, it was enough to bring a smile to his lips, one that matched hers.

They were kids. A boy, who was a little taller than his sister, possibly his age, maybe a little older, with the same dark hair and kind blue eyes his mother had, and a girl with blond hair and wide, frightened eyes. Their mother took each of them by the hand, looked both ways down the street and walked them over in safety. 

Yes, she was kind. 

Monica used to be kind like that. 

The little girl ran up the steps in a hurry, slipping on some ice just as she reached the door. She fell hard, Ian could hear the crack of her knees. She let out a little cry, and looked up into the mean eyes of her father and she didn't make another sound. He didn't reach down and help her up or ask if she was okay, or suggest a band-aid or not to run again. He just glowered down at her, being mean all over the place. 

It was the boy who came to the rescue, her brother. He met the man's eyes with his own, seemingly unafraid and helped her to her feet. He brushed the snow from her pants and kept one of her small hands in his own and squeezed until she managed a smile. One that didn't meet tear filled eyes. 

Their mother, although soft and kind and could probably take away her daughter's pain with one look, didn't move. She seemed frozen in place, eyes cast down to her boot covered feet, her hands jammed into the pockets of her sweater and stayed silent. 

It might have been odd to see, mothers were supposed to help their kids, as were fathers, but Ian had seen that once before at school. Billy Drake had a dad like that, a mean one. He had a mother like that too, one who did nothing while it happened. Billy would come to class with bruises, a broken arm once which he swore up and down that he fell down the stairs. The only difference was, was that he didn't have a brother to help him up on his feet again, one to dust off the snow and hold his hand. 

Ian knew what it was. He just didn't have a name for it yet. 

They all went inside without a word. The door slammed and Ian was still waiting, watching, wondering. 

After that, there were no friendly neighborhood greetings, no smelly casseroles to welcome them to the neighborhood because they were never seen. The car came and went, meaning one parent left at some point, but the kids didn't ride the bus he and Lip did. Or the one Fiona rode before them. 

Ian made a habit of trying to see what was happening inside. He peeked through all the windows of his house, trying to get a look into theirs but curtains or cardboard blocked his way. He even tried knocking on the door like a maniac then ran away and hid, hoping they'd answer. They didn't. The mailman never came, the garbage man either, leaving bags of trash littering the front yard. 

That was the only way to tell that people actually lived there. Trash meant food, food meant people. 

Eventually, Ian gave up trying to figure out who they were. He did have school, and homework, and couldn't spend every waking minute out in the cold for someone who'd never show up in the first place. Friends would have been nice, though. Which was why he made it a once a week thing to knock on their door, just hoping it would open. 

It wasn't until well after Christmas that he saw him. It was dark outside, not illuminated by cheesy Christmas lights like the house across the street was. Frank didn't even bother this time and Ian wasn't surprised. Fiona, being the good, but annoying big sister that she was, told him and Lip no when they wanted to hang the lights themselves. So, the porch was dark, dark enough he could hardly see his hand in front of his face. He had to squint to see the boy next door, peeking out the opened front door, like he was afraid to open it all the way. 

Excited, but worried he might scare him away if he wasn't careful, Ian sat in total silence, not moving anything except his eyes. After a while, the door opened and the boy slipped out without a sound and the door closed behind him. The sounds of creaking stairs gave him away moments later, though. Ian counted all four steps before more silence as he walked up the path, then the squeaky gate opened, then more silence. 

The boy was standing just outside of their gate. He was dressed like before, baggy, faded jeans that had been worn one too many times. A flannel shirt under his ratty jacket, it looked worse than the one he wore from Lip, and that was saying something. He had no scarf, no gloves, which made his fingers red, no hat so his ears were that same red color, as was his nose. His eyes were as bright as they'd been all those weeks ago, but underneath was dark, as if he hadn't slept in all that time. There was no smile, not even on that first day. 

The kid looked miserable. 

Ian had no idea why he was standing at their gate. He seemed uncomfortable, nervous and frightened. It was late and cold and they didn't know each other, not even in passing. He didn't know what to do or say, or avoid saying. Probably everything about his dad was off limits, Billy Drake had that same rule. Ian learned the hard way and earned a black eye because of it. 

Curiosity did kill the cat. He finally realized what that meant and left well enough alone. 

Ten minutes passed and Ian couldn't take the silence another minute. The inside of his cheek hurt because he'd been biting it the entire time, trying not to say anything. He stood and instantly the boy took a step back, feet spread wide like he was about to make a run for it. 

"Don't go, please." Ian finally reached out, his voice carried down the empty street. The boy stayed. "Did you want to talk?" Again, silence. He didn't even blink. "I'm Ian."

Trying to talk was hard when there were no responses. He stayed, so that was good, but that's all he did. 

Risking the boy running off again, Ian took a few more steps until he was at the gate, it separated them. Up close, he saw just how blue his eyes were, like sapphires. His skin was pale, paler than his own, which Ian thought was impossible. He was snowman pale. But he was a little dirty, like he hadn't showered in a while, but he didn't smell bad. He smelled, well, like him; whatever his name was.

Ian couldn't explain it, but he liked it very much. 

"I saw you guys move in a few weeks ago, thought maybe I'd see you at school, but haven't." Ian tried again, hoping the boy would get sick of being talked at, and open up a little. "It looks like we might be in the same grade."

"No." The boy finally spoke and Ian was all ears, nearly falling over the gate to hear him. His voice was low, but soothing. "I'm older."

He couldn't hide his smile even if he tried, so he didn't. He let it beam and knew he must have looked ridiculous but he didn't care so much about that. The boy was talking. To him. The night wasn't so bad after all. 

"I have an older brother, two years older. Maybe he's your age." Ian offered.

"How old?"

"Almost thirteen."

The boy nodded. "Me too. But we don't go to school. My mom helps us."

A few words spoken between them and Ian was surprised to find his heart beating fast. The thump thump was loud as their words slipped away into the icy wind and he wondered if the boy could hear it as well. 

"I wish mine would start homeschooling us, I'd be able to sleep in and do class work in my underwear." Ian blurted without thinking about it. When he did, his cheek flamed hotly, his embarrassment rising to the surface. He needed to salvage the conversation before he left. "But we have too many people here and in different grades. It wouldn't work."

"There a lot of you gingers in there?"

Ian smiled this time, embarrassment fading into the ground. He hated being called a ginger but didn't seem to mind it this time. "Only me and my younger sister. The rest are kinda normal, boring though."

The boy nodded but didn't reply because there was nothing to reply to. Ian would have to lead this conversation and probably every one after, if there were more. He hoped like hell there was. 

"Do you get along with your sister?" Ian asked randomly to keep the flow going. "My older brother is the only one I can stand. Although he likes to steal my comic books and ends up ripping the pages."

Talk. Please talk. Ian said over and over again in his mind.

This was going well, slow, but it could have been a lot worse. He didn't want to overshare, but if he didn't talk, the boy wouldn't and then he'd leave. If that meant he had to share some stuff he'd rather keep inside, like his sudden urge to do class work in his boxers, then he'd do it. 

"Yeah, she's okay." The boy said quietly. "She doesn't talk much, though."

Either do you. He wanted to say. 

"Mine talk too much. The little ones blabber half the time so it's hard to understand them, but it's better than the constant bickering." Ian chuckled, but it wasn't returned. Not that he thought it would be. Hoped, though. 

Silence spread around them again like a blanket of snow. Cold and awkward and awful. His left sock was soaked, thanks to the little hole in the bottom of his shoe. Lip had drilled a hole in it for some reason or another and now his foot was numb. Like his gloved hands, like his nose. 

And if he was cold, the boy had to be too. He had no gloves, or a hat, or a scarf. Maybe he didn't have a hole in his shoe, but he was wearing far less than Ian was and didn't seem to mind. Maybe he was used to the cold, or just used to not having anything extra to keep him warm.

"You uh, you never did tell me your name." Ian said, breathing hot air into the cold night. 

The boy shuffled on his feet, looking back over his shoulder for a moment. "Mickey."

He smiled yet again at the small victory. "Mickey, it's nice to meet you."

The boy scoffed this time, making Ian's smile slip just a little. "You always this fucking nice?"

"Actually no," Ian said honestly. "I just didn't want you to leave if I was as blunt as I normally am."

This time, the boy smiled. A flash of white teeth against the darkness and Ian almost fell over the gate. He only tripped a little, knocking his boots into the bottom, but Mickey noticed because that was just his luck. So he had a nice smile...so what? It shouldn't have affected his balance like that, or he thought it shouldn't. People smiled all the time and he'd never almost tripped before. 

Another stretch of silence overcame them, making them shift on their feet. Mickey did it out of boredom, mostly likely and Ian did it to keep the water out of his shoe. They waited for the other to break the silence. It was broken moments later by the undeniable sound of Mickey's stomach grumbling. It sounded like it was closing in on itself, rumbling like an angry bear. 

Mickey of course, looked embarrassed. He pulled his jacket closer to his body, hiding. He wouldn't make eye contact, but Ian didn't need him to. The fresh smell of whatever Fiona had been cooking was carried out by the gentle breeze wafting through the opened window. 

Maybe the smell had pulled Mickey out of his house so late, having him to bare the cold just to get another smell. A wave of sadness fell over Ian, making something inside his chest close in on itself, not grief because that didn't make sense, but not all the way to pity either. It was something else, and he probably should have left well enough alone but he'd never been very good at that. 

"My sister is making dinner," Ian said lamely and thumbed back at the house. Blue eyes hungrily followed and his stomach gave another impatient growl. "You wanna join us?"

Mickey's mouth opened, and Ian knew he was about to say yes, he could see it in the way his lips moved. But he never got there. It was like he realized what he was about to say and knew he shouldn't accept it. 

"No, I'm good. Not very hungry." Mickey lied, shifting his eyes away. 

Fighting with him about it wouldn't do any good. They both knew he was hungry, but Ian wanted to try to persuade him to say yes. Even if he had to tempt him into doing so.

"Well, I'm starving. Maybe you wanna sit with me while I eat then?" Ian asked hopefully and met Mickey's eyes before he blinked away the contact. Then he gave a curt nod of his head. "Good. You wanna come sit on the steps, I'll just be a minute."

Without waiting for an answer, Ian turned and hauled ass up the steps, into the warm house and his stomach growled for that same smell of food. Fiona was pulling a turkey from the oven, probably from when Lip stole too many from the meat packing plant over the holiday. It was done, golden brown with circular pineapple slices pinned to the side. 

"Hey, you look freezing." Fiona set the pan down with the rest of the food and Ian debated on if he should tell her the truth or not. "Wanna eat?"

Ian nodded and took the plate she offered. "Can you wrap up two extra plates for me? Like, of all of it?"

Fiona narrowed her eyes. "Are you that hungry? I'm sure there will be leftovers for later."

It was better not to lie and she would understand. "Our neighbors finally came out, or the boy did anyway. I could hear his stomach growl from across the porch."

Fiona's gaze softened and she instantly piled two plates high with everything, then wrapped them in tinfoil and put them in a grocery bag. Ian wanted to cry. Not for the food itself, but because she didn't need to know the details, or ask why the boys parents didn't feed him. She simply did as he asked. 

"Thank you." Ian set his own plate down and wrapped her in an awkward hug. She returned it, her fingers combing through his hair once or twice before he pulled back. 

"Don't stay out too late." 

Ian grabbed his food, the bag and a few soda cans from the fridge before he made his way back outside. He let the bag hang on the doorknob and took a seat on the steps. Mickey managed to find his way inside the gate, but hadn't taken a seat yet. But his eyes never left his plate and his stomach grumbled again. 

Ian took his gloves off and tossed them aside and dug into his food. He was hungry, yeah, but not that hungry. He mostly wanted Mickey to stop being so stubborn and take the offered food. Which seemed likely because he came closer every few moments until he was seated beside him, looking ahead. 

Ian was done within minutes and Mickey still hadn't moved, or spoken. He set his plate down and opened his drink, to which Mickey jumped a little before he settled. He took a drink, then set it down and turned to look at Mickey. 

"I should probably go." Mickey said but didn't stand. Ian had the feeling that was the last thing he wanted to do. "It's late."

"It just feels late, really." He glanced at his watch and it wasn't even eleven o'clock yet. "Winter makes it seem late."

"I'm starting to see that." Mickey mumbled and rubbed his hands together. "M' not used to the cold."

"No?" Ian asked, a little surprised by the unprovoked offer of information. "Where did you guys move from?"

"Florida. It's never cold there, not like this shit." 

"I've never been to Florida before, or anywhere else really." Ian offered up a bit of his information too, making sure the exchange wasn't one-sided. "It would be nice to get away from the cold. To see the beach. I bet it's amazing."

"I guess." Mickey mumbled, then sniffled and wiped his runny nose on the back of his jacket. "I gotta go."

When Mickey stood, Ian did, but the older boy was already by the gate. He snatched the bag off the doorknob and ran after him, catching him just before he opened his own gate. "Hey, wait."

Mickey turned, eyebrows lifted. 

Ian offered the bag. "I had my sister wrap some up, just in case you're not hungry again later." 

Surprise was all over Mickey's face, his eyebrows once again doing that dancing thing up to his hair, like they were hiding. But he almost looked angry as well. Ian saw his jaw clench a few times, his hands turned into fists at his sides and Ian thought maybe he was about to get into his first fight. Which would be one-sided, because the last thing he wanted to do was hit the boy. 

"You didn't have to." Mickey said softly. Ian could hear the quiver deep down, like his voice had been when Fiona helped him. "You shouldn't have."

Ian let out a breath, his lungs sighing in relief. "It's nothing, really. We had plenty extra and it would have gotten tossed out anyway."

With a shaky, red hand, Mickey took the bag and held it like it was precious. His stomach gave another grumble, louder this time and those kinds of grumbles kinda hurt the inside of your stomach. 

"Uh...um, just…" Mickey stuttered, unable to come out and say it, but Ian knew. 

Ian smiled and knew Mickey saw it because his cheeks seemed to pinken a little, or maybe he was just really cold. "I'd you ever wanna hang out, or don't want to be alone, you should come over. We can play video games or something."

"I doubt it, my dad, he uh…" Mickey shivered, then shook his head. "Thanks again."

Just like Billy Drake. 

"You're welcome." Ian was the first to back away, knowing that Mickey needed to go but didn't want to be rude to just walk away. So he did. He made it to his own door before Mickey's closed. No lights came on, no sounds made it to his ears, but he knew. Mickey and his mom and his sister were no doubt tearing into that food. 

Before he went inside, he patted the pockets of his jacket, then his jeans, then looked all around the porch. His gloves were missing. He'd taken them off just as Mickey sat down next to him...Ian smiled, not even mad. Mickey had taken them, probably when he said his goodbyes and stormed off. If it were anyone else, he'd have gone after them and gotten them back. But this was Mickey and for some reason he was okay with it. 

Now Mickey's hands wouldn't be cold anymore. 

**

It would be close to two weeks until he saw Mickey again. After that night, Ian spent the days outside, trying to find something to do, anything, just to be within eyesight of Mickey's house. He hoped he'd come out, talk a little more maybe, decide he wanted some company, but it didn't happen. 

That old SUV was back. Meaning HE was back. 

The car stayed there for three days before it was gone again. That's when he saw Mickey peeking out the window. Just his eyes and his nose. He seemed to be checking the street to see if his dad was gone. 

Ian continued to kick the worn out soccer ball into the net hooked onto the fence. He kicked it and stole glances as Mickey's door opened, then again when his gate did. The second date didn't open and Ian let the ball roll away and glanced up. 

Mickey had a black eye. A nasty one. Ian could tell from experience that it was at least two days old due to the coloring and the swelling. It had to have hurt, pulsing and pounding and hot to the touch. Ice wouldn't help because the skin was too sensitive to apply it, the swelling would go down on its own. 

One look at Mickey's clenched jaw and Ian knew he should keep his mouth shut about it. There was nothing he could do about it anyway, nothing that would help them. He was just a kid after all. But he could offer an ear if Mickey decided he wanted to talk, or he could offer his company even if he didn't want to talk. 

"Hey." Ian offered a wave that probably made him look as ridiculous as he felt. But he was coming to realize he was always a little awkward around the older boy. "Wanna play?"

Mickey eyed the ball and shook his head. 

Ian kicked it away until it lodged into a corner by the house. "Yeah, me either. What about video games?"

This time Mickey seemed unsure. He had to know what video games were, right? It was hard to get around without seeing a game console advertise, or games, controllers. They were literally everywhere you went. Only Mickey never went, they never left the house. So, no, maybe he didn't know. 

"I can show you, if you want." Ian thumbed at the house. "No one's home right now."

Mickey shook his head. "I can't."

If Mickey didn't want to hang out, which it seemed like he didn't, why come over? Just to see him, just to not talk? Maybe he just didn't want to be inside anymore. Whatever it was, left Ian unsure what to do. 

It was just as cold as it had been last week, maybe more so. The ground was frozen, the wind was an icy mess, stinging like knives, you couldn't even step outside without your teeth chattering. Mickey seemed warm enough, he was even wearing his stolen gloves...the borrowed gloves. 

Ian didn't comment, but he did smile a little. "You wanna just stay here, talk again?"

After a moment, Mickey nodded and let himself in the gate. Ian couldn't help that little thrill that instantly flooded inside him. He had no idea where it came from, or why it was Mickey who brought it on because it had never happened before. He was generally happy and excited when he was around. 

They walked in silence to the steps. Mickey sat down first, keeping close to one side of the railing instead of just sitting off to the side like last time. Ian didn't sit, not yet. Instead, he waited until Mickey looked up at him and smiled.

He didn't smile back. 

"I'm gonna run in and grab something really quick. I'll be back." He waited for Mickey to nod before he rushed in. 

Within seconds, he was tossing snacks and drinks into an oversized grocery bag. Everything from single servings of Pringles to Slim Jim's and pop tarts. He grabbed sodas, water and some sort of blue Gatorade that Lip kept in the back. He left the bag on the counter and hurried up to his room.

He dumped his backpack out on the bed, books flopping to the floor with a loud thud, pencils scattering under the bed. He shoved in comic books and sports magazines, outdated ones of course but they were still fun to read. Then he tossed in his Gameboy with a bag full of games. The Legos would have to wait until after he convinced Mickey to come inside, the last thing he wanted was them all scattered across the porch.

He ran back down the stairs, grabbed a gas powered space heater from the closet, snatched the bag off the counter and all but ran back outside. Mickey was still waiting, his teeth chattering a little. Ian dumped the bags down, making him jump again. He muttered a quiet 'sorry' before he set the heater down and turned it all the way up and aimed it at them. 

Then he sat down and pulled the bags between them. "Take your pick. I just grabbed a bunch of stuff." Mickey didn't move and Ian could hear his stomach again. He pushed the bag closer to him. "Come on, I can't eat it all alone."

It felt like an hour passed before Mickey was digging into the snack bag. He grabbed a can of BBQ Pringles and devoured the entire thing within seconds. Ian smiled and elbowed the bag again, prompting him to have more. And he did, he seemed to eat half the bag before he realized it and looked away bashfully. 

"Got soda, or water, Gatorade too." Ian opened a soda and held a water and held the Gatorade out for Mickey. He took the blue bottle and drank half before he set it down and burped loudly. "Gotta eat it all too. Before the rest of them get it."

"If I eat anymore I'll fucking puke." Mickey burped again and held his stomach. 

Ian agreed and shoved the rest of a Twinkie in his mouth before he set the bag back, behind Mickey on purpose. He drug his backpack over and rifled through it. "Okay, so comics or you can play my Gameboy?"

Mickey shook his head when the device was offered to him. "I don't know how to play that."

Ian turned it on and it gave a little jingle that had Mickey's eyes darting to it. He moved closer until his knee touched Mickey's. "It's really easy, I'll show you." 

Mickey didn't pull away but Ian could feel how stiff he was. Like he was afraid to move. The game started with another jingle and Ian made sure to tilt the screen so he could see. It was some old Mario Brothers game, one he'd played a thousand times but Mickey seemed entranced by it. Unable to look away. 

"Gotta get coins and mushrooms and kill all the bad guys." Ian said and jumped up and down on a Goomba until it slipped off screen. "Like I said, easy."

He played a few levels, showing Mickey each time he reached the top of the flagpole at the end of each level. The snack back gave a crinkle and Ian smiled as Mickey did what he did and shoved a Twinkie into his mouth, whole. 

"Wanna try?" Ian asked when Mickey swallowed his mouthful and chased it with blue Gatorade. He didn't give him a chance to say no again. A new level started and he handed it to him.

"What? No, I don't want it."

Ian pushed it away when Mickey tried to give it back and dug into the snack bag for something to keep his hands busy. "Better hurry before you die."

Mickey cursed under his breath and began to play. Ian smiled and leaned over to watch. He wasn't half bad for a newbie. He died once when he tried to kill a Goomba, but he did okay after that, he got the hang of it quickly. Mickey got more coins than he did, which meant a higher score when he finished the level. 

Nothing could beat that overjoyed smile Mickey gave though, one that made something flutter in the pit of his stomach. Their eyes met and Ian happily returned that smile and Mickey kept playing. He played and played until the battery died and the game shut off. 

Mickey handed it back, still smiling and Ian shoved it back into his bag. "That was actually kinda fun."

Ian smiled again. He smiled more around Mickey than he had in his life. "It's yours whenever you wanna play it. Playing with you is a lot better than with my brother. He likes to hog it until it dies and won't let me play."

"He sounds like a dick."

Giggling, Ian nodded. "I'm sure he knows it too."

The wind let out a loud howl, making them both jump. They shared a nervous laugh and held their jackets tighter around their bodies. Ian turned a little and brought the heater closer, then Mickey turned and they warmed their hands. 

"Can I ask you something?"

Ian nodded without taking his eyes away from his cold hands. 

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" Ian asked as he glanced up. Mickey was really close, close enough for him to see how long his dark eyelashes were. 

"Why do you keep trying to hang out with me?"

To anyone else, that might have been an odd question. Especially since at their age, it shouldn't matter why someone wanted to be your friend. Most wouldn't question it the way Mickey was. If you like someone or have common likes and interests, you became friends. It was simple. 

Mickey probably never had a friend in his entire life. And little sisters didn't count because they'd always be there. Having a friend that used to be a stranger was something different. They chose to like you, they chose to give you a chance and not someone else.

It was special. 

"You don't even know me." Mickey said when Ian didn't.

Ian could make this big speech about how you never know your friends unless you give them a chance, but there was no need. Mickey wasn't looking for a long explanation, just the truth. It made things a lot easier for him. 

"Because I like you." Ian said and was surprised his voice didn't quiver from the cold, or nerves. "And no, I don't know you but I want to."

"It's not a good idea." Mickey pulled the sides of his jacket closer to his body. "I can't just hang out like this whenever I want to. I'm not even supposed to leave the house."

Ian nodded. "I know, but whenever you can, I'll still be here. I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to."

That being said, knowing they both understood that Mickey wanted to be around, but couldn't, they turned back to the heater. Silence was quickly becoming a vast part of their friendship, but that was okay too. Talking didn't always solve everything. 

It was getting late, even for him and he could feel the effects of being outside in the cold suddenly overcome his body. His joints ached, his cold feet too, his nose was pretty much an ice cube. It was probably time to call it a night and hope he didn't have to go two more weeks without seeing Mickey again. 

When he turned to tell him, maybe invite him back again whenever he could, Ian noticed something. At first he wasn't sure he was seeing it clearly, it was dark and the porch light flickered often enough to obstruct his view of some things, but not this time. What he was seeing was definitely real. 

A tentacle. 

It was the same color as Mickey's skin, pale but splotchy due to the cold. It looked like what a tentacle was supposed to look like...that is, if you ever saw one before. And he hadn't. He knew some people had them while others, like him, like his family, didn't, but seeing is believing and he needed to see it to believe it. 

No one could explain why people had them. It wasn't a disease or a growth, it wasn't due to some infection or some obscene alien race. It was just rare, like having one green eye, one blue, or red hair, like his. One in ten people could have tentacles. And Mickey was one of them. 

It was peeking out from inside his coat, from where it was unzipped, not more than a foot long, with little suction cups on the very tip, instead of all the way up. It snaked out, well, like a snake. Slowly, turning back and forth as if it were looking for danger of some sort. It was alive, like, alive-alive. It seemed to be seeking warmth from the heater, like them trying to warm their hands. 

It was absolutely fascinating. 

Ian found himself wanting to touch it. To see if it was as soft as it looked. To see what the little suckers on the end felt like, or if it would hurt, or just feel extremely odd because he had no idea what it was supposed to feel like. It didn't look slippery like an octopus or a squid might. It just looked normal. 

"What?" Mickey barked, pushing one elbow into Ian's arms. 

He looked away when the tentacle shrank back, startled maybe. Ian met Mickey's eyes. "What what?"

"What are you staring at?"

Did Mickey really not know it was out like that? Could he not feel it? Now he had no idea how to bring it up and was nearly certain that when he did, Mickey would leave again. 

"I was just surprised, that's all." Ian felt his face burn, and not from the heater. "I kinda thought they were a myth."

Dark eyebrows narrowed. "What?"

Ian pointed to it and Mickey followed his gaze like he was searching for a monster in a horror movie. All slow and uncertain. And just like he expected, Mickey freaked out. He was suddenly being shoved back until he fell on his ass. That little, amazing tentacle slithered back inside his jacket and Mickey got up, towering over him with the most unreadable expression. 

"That is none of your business and you better not tell anyone." Mickey jerked his jacket closed. 

Ian heaved himself up and ran after him as he stomped to the gate. "I won't tell anyone, I promise. I think it's really awesome."

Mickey stopped and Ian ran into his back. Suddenly he felt a bunch of squirming against his chest and when he looked, Mickey's jacket was moving. There were more of them. Hiding. 

"It's not awesome, it's gross and I don't want to talk about it."

"Mickey, please." Ian grabbed his arm and that was the wrong thing to do. Mickey jerked away and shoved him back a little. Blue eyes wide, afraid, but he stopped trying to leave. "I don't think it's gross."

"Why, because you saw one of them?" Mickey barked, making him shrink back. "Now you understand all of it, hmm?"

Tears came to his eyes before he could stop them. Mickey was mad, upset, angry all because he happened to notice he was different. It kind of felt like goodbye when they'd just gotten started. 

Ian wiped his eyes, not caring that Mickey might think he was a baby now because of it. "I won't say anything. I won't talk about it again, I won't even look if it happens again. I promise. Just don't go."

Mickey took a breath and the only thing he could do was hope Mickey didn't just leave all mad like that. It was too early for goodbye, for that friendship to end before they had a chance to enjoy it. 

"Look, it's fine, okay? Don't worry about it." Mickey mumbled as he zipped up his jacket. "I do gotta go, though."

"Okay." Ian wiped his face again, managing a smile he wasn't sure was real or not. He was relieved, but only slightly. "See you later, I hope."

This time when Mickey turned to leave, Ian let him. He didn't try and stop him, but he did laser focus on his back and watched the squirming thing happen again. It looked like they were dying to get out, tired of being trapped inside his coat because Ian knew Mickey wore that jacket for more than just warmth. 

He wore it to hide. 

**

As he expected, it took awhile for Mickey to come around again. He wasn't surprised, finding out that Mickey had tentacles was like finding out someone's darkest secrets, or uncovered lies. When faced, it took a little while for them to be able to face that other person again, years even.

It was only four days, which didn't seem like a lot but during the winter break at school, he literally had nothing else to do but sit and worry about it, thinking too much about it. It was constantly on his mind and the only thing he wanted to do was talk to Mickey about it some more, or have Mickey talk about it while he listened.

During those four, awfully long days, Ian divided up his time between watching Mickey's house for any signs of him, which there weren't, and stealing Fiona's cell phone to Google anything and everything about tentacles. He'd take it from her room and hide out in the van in the backyard and click on every link until it died.

The internet wasn't always a good thing. Especially when you had to look up something you didn't know about. The moment he typed in "tentacles" about a million search results appeared. The first one was a picture of two people having sex, or he assumed that's what sex looked like. The tentacle part made it seem more confusing then he'd seen in some of Frank's movies. Online, it seemed like tentacles served as another set of arms, multiple sets maybe, they were all over the place. Ian had to scroll away as his face flamed red. 

He definitely didn't need to know about that yet. 

What he wanted was information about them, in general. Like who had them and who didn't, or why some had them and some didn't. What they were used for, if they could be controlled, like an arm or a leg could. Or maybe they had a mind of their own. 

There wasn't much to go on. Tentacles were rare and the people who had them didn't really want to be put on the spot and answer a million different questions. They were part of them, it was intimate, like any other part of their body. But some people, mostly the ones who got paid to be poked and prodded for scientific information, actually gave it. There were pictures, in which no set of tentacles was ever the same as someone else's, and facts, descriptions, a list of possible uses. 

The first thing he learned was that anyone could be born with them. Male, female, black, white, race didn't seem to matter, gender either. It wasn't like a blood type, or anything that could be labeled. Either you were born with them, or you weren't, but it tended to run in families, like twins. If someone in your family had them, recent or not, alive or not, there was a higher chance that a child born within that family could have them. But not always.

From the pictures, the non sexual ones, he saw that not everyone had the same tentacles. They matched their individual skin tones, some were long, others short, some thicker, some thinner, some only had one, others had up to five. It was always different. 

As for their functions, Ian was still in the dark. People said it was just like having another set of arms. They'd use them to do everyday things, like if their hands were full and the phone rang, a tentacle would reach out and bring it to them, or grabbing the remote when it was just out of arms reach, but they had full control. The tentacles didn't have a mind of their own. They didn't start randomly messing with stuff. 

And like any other part, the tentacles had muscles and nerves. They could feel pain or pleasure, which was obvious from those pictures. They were delicate, interesting and Ian was absolutely obsessed. He wanted to see what they felt like against his skin, if it would feel any different than Mickey's hand would... although he had no idea what that felt like either. He wanted to touch and inspect and talk, he wanted to learn. 

That seemed impossible, however with how Mickey reacted the first time. And that had been an accident. He had only looked at it for a moment and let on that he knew and Mickey all but exploded. He was fairly certain that there wouldn't be any show and tell the next time they saw each other. 

The only thing on his side was that Mickey was back. Ian had been outside checking the mail one morning, dressed in baggy sweats and one of Lip's heavy hoodies and snow boots and Fiona forced him to get the mail. He saw Mickey outside and when Mickey saw him looking, he gave a wave and came closer.

"Hey." Ian smiled and tucked the mail under his arm. He had to squint against the harsh light that refracted off the snow. 

Mickey was dressed in jeans with holes in the knees and that same jacket, but under that he had a black and grey flannel shirt over a white tank top. He was still wearing Ian's stolen gloves and the black eye was, well, black. A little purple too. 

But he offered a smile and that tension that had been there before, the one that could have ended their new friendship was gone and it was like it had been before all that. 

"Hey." Mickey replied easily. "Kinda early."

"I have a lazy big sister." Ian wiggled the mail. "Early for you too, hmm?"

Mickey nodded, looking down for a minute before he thumbed back to the house. "One of the few times it's quiet around our house. Dad's in jail."

The jail thing wasn't a surprise. From the man's looks and nasty attitude, jail was an eventuality. What surprised him was Mickey willingly offering the information. To say Mickey had been closed off would be an understatement. Now he was freely talking without Ian's helpful push. 

"I'd say sorry but I'm not." Ian lost the smile. He was focused on Mickey's black eye, finally able to see the blue of his eyes. "For how long?"

"At least a few weeks, maybe. He always gets out of it somehow." 

"A few weeks is better than nothing." Ian smiled again. "That mean you're free to hang out again?"

Shyly, Mickey nodded. 

"Good." Ian started for the house and Mickey followed, shuffling his feet. He held the front door open and Mickey peeked in before he stepped inside. Ian shut the door. "My sister is the only one here."

Mickey stomped his snowy boots on the rug, but didn't hang his jacket up. They both knew why and Ian's eyes dropped to his back, but there was nothing. No movement like before, no squirming. 

"Parents?"

Ian shrugged and kicked off his own boots before he wandered into the house, heading for the kitchen. "They come and go. It's hard to keep track. Fiona, my sister, is kinda like a mom anyway. Only better."

Fiona was in the kitchen, looking a little worse for wear. She sat in a chair at the table, her legs crossed with fuzzy house shoes on her feet. Her sweater was a cream color, heavy, knitted, but comfortable looking. It kept her thin tank top covered. Her hair was a mess of dark curls on the top of her head, like she didn't bother to brush her hair yet. She was sipping a cup of coffee and looking through some teen magazine.

Like this, Fiona really did look like a mom. Given that she was only fifteen, she should have been sleeping in until noon, worried about boys and make up, skipping class and smoking. And maybe she would have been, if their parents were home and doing what she was, but they weren't. 

They stepped into the kitchen and tired eyes glanced up and she gave a little smile. "Hey, who's this?"

Ian stepped to the side to reveal Mickey, who wouldn't meet her eyes. He almost put a hand on his back but remembered how Mickey reacted last time he touched him. "This is Mickey. He moved in next door. Mickey, this is my sister, Fiona."

"Hi." Mickey mumbled. 

"Oh, I was wondering who moved in. We haven't seen much of you." Fiona stood, wrapping the sides of her sweater around herself. 

Mickey shuffled awkwardly and Ian managed to get them away from that line of questions. "Can we go up and play video games for awhile?"

"Kinda early, but that's just me. Yeah, that's fine. Just don't make a mess up there." Fiona smiled at them and sat back down with her coffee. 

Ian moved past her to the back stairs and Mickey hesitated. Ian stopped and was surprised Mickey uttered a soft, 'nice to meet you' before he followed. He didn't bring it up, because why bother. It would create more tension they didn't need. He took the stairs two at a time and kicked open the door to his room. 

"She seems like your mom." Mickey said as he hovered behind Ian. He glanced around the crowded room.

Ian turned on the TV and cranked up the Xbox. He snatched the pillows off his bed and tossed them in front. "She kinda is. Our parents are always busy."

"She's nice."

Ian looked back at then. Mickey seemed a little nervous, shy. Glancing around his room, which was cleaner than it was yesterday. Ian knew he felt out of place, but he couldn't have been more wrong. Ian wanted him to be there. 

"Yeah, she's nice." Ian smiled as he offered him one beat up controller and took the other. "Still wanna play?"

Mickey took it and sat down on the pillow next to him. He wiggled, trying to get comfortable before he kicked his shoes off. "I don't know how."

Just like with his Gameboy, Ian nudged his elbow. The game started and he went through all the motions until he started. "I'll show you. I'm sure you'll beat my high score in no time."

The blush on Mickey's cheeks was unexpected and this time, it wasn't due to the cold. 

They fell into it easily. Once he showed Mickey the controls and helped him understand the basics of the game, he was a master at it. He was an excellent shot, hitting guys without missing and he had a keen eye, able to spot extra ammo when even Ian couldn't see it. And he played just about everyday. They played as a team for a while, slaughtering the opposite team, then they played against each other and the slaughtering was one-sided. Mickey wiped the floor with him.

"How are you that good?" Ian said in awe as the match ended yet again and he was crowned loser. Next to him, Mickey was laughing, actually laughing and he loved the sound. "You just kicked my butt."

Mickey snorted. "Butt, really?"

"Fine, you kicked my ass the entire time." Ian cussed, sometimes. He didn't do it as frequently or as comfortably as Mickey did, and Fiona always gave him that 'mom' look even when she'd said worse, but he did it. "All four rounds, Mickey."

Mickey set the controller aside, still smiling. "Maybe you should practice more."

His eyes widened at the jab and his smile grew. With a playful touch, he shoved Mickey's shoulder, spurring another round of laughter. "I have plenty of practice. That was beginners luck, or you cheated."

"Sore loser." 

"Yeah, definitely." Ian chuckled. 

Two hours had passed since they started. In that time, Ian had shrugged out of his heavy hoody and exchanged it for a shirt. The heater was working too well this winter. Mickey had his shoes kicked off but just from looking at him, he knew it was burning up. His hair was a little flat, heavy with sweat, it rolled in rivlets down the side of his face and coated his upper lip. But he still had that jacket on. 

"You can take that off you know." Ian pointed to the jacket when Mickey's eyes narrowed in that confused way. "I won't look or anything."

"Look at what?"

Ian kept his voice even, trying not to show how excited and fearful he was for bringing it up. "Your tentacles. I won't look or ask."

Mickey clenched his jaw and held his jacket tighter. "I'm fine."

"You know, I, uh read up on them a little." Blue eyes were dark, angry almost. "I know that most people hide them but that they need to breathe a little sometime."

"Why'd you read up on them?" Mickey asked quietly. 

This wasn't as bad as last time. Mickey didn't seem angry, even when he put more space between them. He was just indifferent, then curious as to why he was curious. Ian could work with that, he could work around anything aside from being ignored. 

"I was curious. I didn't lie when I said I liked it when I saw it, so I wanted to learn more." Ian turned off the Xbox and turned a little more towards him. "I didn't even think they were real because I'd never see anyone with them before."

"Because people like me don't want to be looked at." Mickey explained. "Other people don't understand."

People were monsters. That was something Ian learned early on and tried his best to avoid them. Most didn't accept anything different, and tentacles were top level different. He could understand the want to keep it all a secret. 

"Have you let them try?" 

Mickey shook his head. "I can't expect them to like them, or accept them when I can't. I'm the only one in my family that has them and my dad…" he sighed. "I already know how weird they are."

His dad. He was the reason for all of this. For Mickey's fear, for his hesitation to open up to anyone about it. And from the looks of that black eye, worse things had been done to him and almost all of them could be tied to having tentacles. 

"If it matters, I don't think it's weird." Ian said honestly and hoped that Mickey believed him. "If I did, I wouldn't have wanted you to come back over. I wouldn't have googled it to understand."

Mickey was quiet for a moment and Ian thought that maybe he hadn't gotten through to him and that he'd leave anyway. He was about to apologize when Mickey grabbed both sleeves of the jacket and snaked his arms out, then peeled it back, leaving him in a long sleeved flannel shirt. 

Ian breathered a sigh of relief. "How many do you have?"

When Mickey answered, he still refused to look at him and Ian wished it was different. That Mickey wasn't ashamed of them, that he wasn't worried about being 'weird."

"Five." 

"Is it hard to control them?" Ian asked, eyeing his back as his over-shirt started to shift. 

Mickey nodded. "I haven't had much practice. Only when my dad's gone. My mom shows me a little."

"So last time, when I saw it, you couldn't control it?"

"No, it must have been cold and wanted closer to the heater."

The back of Mickey's shirt was moving again, like a mass of snakes under a blanket, all squirming to get free. It had an X Files feel to it, only because he literally didn't understand and didn't know what they looked like and he was sure when he did know, it would just be normal after that. 

"What's it feel like?" Ian asked, unable to look away. His voice sounded soft, quiet, like he was aware that one wrong word would likely spook him into leaving. 

With a gentle shift, Mickey rotated his shoulders. "It feels...I don't know, just weird. I'm not in control."

To prove that point, one tentacle slithered up from under Mickey's shirt, making it move up a little. Ian didn't jump away when it lifted up, kind of looking at him, or it would if it had eyes. 

"Yeah, I see that." Ian caught Mickey's eye and motioned to the escaped tentacle. Mickey just sighed, squinting his eyes together as if he was not in the mood. "I know it's a part of you, but sometimes it's like it has a mind of its own."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Mickey said and with a roll of his eyes he pushed the tentacle back. "They just do whatever the fuck they want."

Ian smiled when the same tentacle snuck back out, further this time, letting him see how long it was. Long enough to snoot at the tip of his bare foot. It tickled it and he laughed and moved his foot away. 

"They are curious, I think." Ian pulled his foot closer when it came at it again. "Or tired of being kept up."

"What are you, the damn tentacle whisperer?"

Giggling, Ian nodded. "I guess we'll see. They like me better than you."

A noise, probably one that came from way downstairs, startled the tentacle and it sucked back inside Mickey's shirt within an instant. Mickey bristled, tensing as he turned and expected revolted eyes looking in on them. 

"It's just Fiona making lunch." Ian said after he heard a few plates clinking together. Mickey didn't seem convinced, so he got up and closed it, then locked it and sat back down. "Nothing to worry about."

Mickey's shoulders eased but unfortunately that tentacle didn't come back out and Ian found himself moving closer to Mickey to try and convince it to come back. He wanted the shirt to come off so he had full access, but knew that was never going to happen. 

"So, are we gonna play some more?" Mickey asked, changing the subject.

"I guess if you want to." Ian said distractedly. The bottom of Mickey's shirt was moving again. "Or we can do something else. Comics or legos, outside maybe."

"What are you doing?" Mickey asked, pulling the bottom of his shirt down when it slid up a little more. 

"Nothing." Ian replied and rose up to meet his eyes but Mickey didn't seem convinced, so he told the truth. "Just hoped it would come back out."

"I'm trying to keep them in."

"You don't have to." Ian insisted, sounding just as excited as he felt. "I won't keep staring anymore."

Staring wouldn't help. If anything, it would make Mickey not want to stay any longer, or he'd do his best to keep them in and all Ian wanted was them out. He decided to stop, to turn away and look back at the dark TV.

"Just ask."

Ian perked up, but tried not to seem as excited as he felt. "What?"

"You wanna keep asking me stuff." Mickey met his eyes and Ian wanted to apologize again and leave it alone. "Just ask."

Deep breath, one he hoped would keep him from talking a million miles a minute. "Have you tried to control them? And not like trying to keep them inside, but to use them."

"Why bother? It's not like I can just bring them out whenever the fuck I want to." 

"Probably not, but maybe you wouldn't hate them so much if you knew how to control them." Ian offered, but what did he know? Stuff like that was easier said than done. 

"My mom said I already know how, I just won't do it." 

That was probably true. Somewhere deep down, Mickey knew how to control them. But he might have been too afraid to try, or too afraid of accepting what it meant if he could control it. 

"If you ever wanted to, you could do it here. No one would see you."

Mickey shook his head no. "Thanks."

He offered, giving Mickey a safe place when he didn't have one. That was really all he could do. Ian couldn't make Mickey open up, he couldn't force him to try, he could just be there if he wanted to, or if he didn't. 

"So, hungry?" Ian asked, trying to get them back on track and away from all that heavy stuff. "We can go see if lunch is done."

Mickey's stomach grumbled again, just like last time, but he shook his head. "Not really hungry. Maybe we can play again?"

Ian thought about arguing, but there was no need. He moved up beside him again and turned on the Xbox. "Yeah, we can play for as long as you want."

When Mickey moved back into the center of his pillow, Ian noticed they were closer now. Their knees touched where they sat with their legs crossed and the moment they held their controllers the right way, their arms touched. 

Ian knew Mickey felt it because blue eyes darted over for a moment. He expected him to move over, or maybe Mickey expected him to move. No one did. Ian offered a smile and Mickey just stared at him a minute before the game started and they looked away from each other. 

**

When the game froze and Ian almost broke a controller when he threw it against the wall, they switched to comic books. Ian had a stash under his bed, one that Lip didn't know about. He pulled it out and let Mickey pick whichever one he wanted first. 

Mickey picked Batman after confessing he didn't really know too much about comic books. Certainly not the issues or their orders, or which ones should be kept in their plastic sleeves. Ian didn't mind. He'd rather Mickey ease into it in his own way and he did. He finished reading one, then moved to the next, then the next until a stack of read ones were piled next to him.

Ian settled with Superman, more into that than Batman if he had to choose. But he didn't, so he had both. They read in silence, Ian sat at the head of his bed with his legs laying against the length of the bed, his ankles crossed. Mickey sat at the foot, his back on the window sill and Ian's feet were nearly in his lap. He asked Mickey if he needed to move them, but he said no and kept reading.

Ian didn't really remember what all he read, at least not this time. He was too busy in his own head, searching through all that information he found out about tentacles. Then his mind jumped to Mickey himself and how the bottom of his shirt started to wiggle again.

It was distracting enough for him to set the comic on his lap, held open at whatever page he'd stopped on. It took seconds for a tentacle to wiggle free of his shirt, poking and prodding the blankets for a moment before it did that looking back and forth thing, searching. It landed on him. 

If they were a part of Mickey, even when he didn't have full control, it meant that they acted on Mickey's instincts and feelings, his wants and needs. And since it was clear that Mickey didn't seem to act on any of those things, his tentacles were doing it for him. They came out for the warmth of the heater, then snuck out again when they got too hot and Mickey refused to take his jacket off and Ian was noticing they kept trying to come towards him. 

Was it because they'd never been around anyone else because Mickey didn't feel comfortable with them? Compared to how Mickey acted when they first met, he was more relaxed now, more open. Maybe that's why they were coming out so often.

Ian didn't say anything this time, he even tried not to look too much because Mickey would see and shove it and under his shirt again. Instead, he picked up his comic and pretended to read. Every now and then he'd look up, at Mickey, at the tentacle, then he'd pretend to read a few more pages, then repeat the entire thing. Each time he'd look, that tentacle was out a little more, always coming closer to him. 

It was longer than he imagined, long enough to reach his calf from down where Mickey was sitting. Speaking of Mickey, he seemed oblivious to it all, nose deep in the comic. It pulled at his sweats, gripping it lightly, then pulled before it let go, over and over. Ian just smiled and watched it all happen. 

Maybe it was just curious, but if it was, then Mickey was, right? Wasn't that how it worked? So he really needed to find out what Mickey was so curious about. Not his sweats, obviously, but maybe for attention? Had they stayed quiet for too long? 

The tentacle surprised him when it snuck under his calf muscle and lightly wrapped around his leg. Ian moved it a little, to see if the tentacle would let go, it didn't, it just gripped him tighter and held on. It wasn't weird, it didn't feel odd, but kinda comforting. Almost like holding hands... if he knew anything about stuff like that, which he didn't, but it kinda had the same feel to it. 

"Do you like it okay?" Ian asked and set his own comic down. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched him, wondering if he would notice. 

"Yeah, I am. Kinda hard to follow though." Mickey said and turned the page without looking away. 

"You gotta read the issue before that to understand," Ian explained and dug through his pile for it. It was about to toss it to him when the tentacle released his leg, grabbed the center of the comic and handed it to Mickey. "Hope it helps."

He couldn't contain his smile and had to use his hand to cover it. 

"Why are you smiling?" Mickey asked without looking up. 

"Just happy you haven't tried to put it away yet." Ian giggled when it tickled under his knee. "It's playful."

Mickey snorted. "It's me."

"Well, you're playful then." Ian laughed again and Mickey looked over at his tentacle. "I think it's amazing."

This time Mickey didn't swat it away, or shift because he was uncomfortable. He did set the comic down and looked between them at what was going on. He didn't talk, he just watched with a relaxed look on his face, unguarded this time. 

"It was cool the way it handed you the comic." Ian said and was tempted to offer Mickey another one to see if it would happen again. "I'd use them for all sorts of things. Holding drinks or snacks or my Gameboy, grabbing the remote maybe."

Mickey smiled a little but shook his head. "It's not that easy. I only took the comic because I really didn't want to stop reading to reach for it. So, it did it for me but it doesn't always happen like that."

"Can I see the other ones?" Ian asked quietly. He'd never seen Mickey look so shocked before. 

"No." Mickey answered roughly. 

Ian didn't push, he just nodded and kept eye contact until Mickey spoke again. 

"Why?"

"Just curious." Ian said simply and shifted his leg while the tentacle slithered underneath again, holding him. "I just want to see them. Nothing bad."

At first he thought it was a hard no. Mickey didn't just lift up his shirt and expose the rest of them. They sat in silence for a little while again, making brief eye contact before Mickey would break it and then it would happen all over again. But then, Mickey's shirt lifted slowly and another one came out.

Ian sat up, eyes wide, excited. He kept one leg still so the first tentacle didn't move but bent his other leg to get closer. It looked just like the first one, only this one seemed shy. It didn't come right out and start poking at his sweats. Only the tip of it was sticking out. 

"That is so cool." 

"Not really." Mickey put his head back to rest against the window and sighed deeply. "I hate them."

Ian moved closer this time, forcing the first tentacle to let go. It moved closer to Mickey, but stayed within Ian's reach. "Don't listen to what he says about them. I bet he's just jealous."

"You don't know him, Ian."

"I know guys like him, Mickey. And you already know he's a piece of shit." Ian said with anger in his voice. "They're a part of you. You have to live with them, not him."

The second tentacle seemed to like what he said, because it slowly wrapped around his wrist. It didn't hold on nearly as tightly as the other one had, but loosely, lazily maybe. It curled around his wrist and stayed there. 

"You keep touching me." Ian pointed out. He didn't say they, because they were Mickey. They touched him because Mickey wanted to. 

"Can't help it." Mickey said quietly and looked away. "I don't know why it happens."

"There doesn't have to be a reason." Ian turned his wrist enough to rub one finger along the underside of the tentacle, feeling how smooth it was. 

To his surprise, Mickey let out a soft sound. They both realized it at the same time. Ian just looked at him with wide eyes, wondering what happened and Mickey blushed red like a tomato and looked away. 

"Did that hurt?"

Mickey shook his head. "Kinda felt good, I think. Weird, though."

Ian did it again, this time running his finger around where it was curled, following the path around his wrist. Mickey made that same sound, only deeper this time and Ian didn't know what to do or how to feel about it. 

"Stop, that feels weird." Mickey said quietly.

Ian didn't do it again, but noticed how Mickey grabbed his jacket and put it on his lap. The tentacles released him again and moved back under his shirt. Ian sat back, pulling his comic into his lap again and kind of missed the feeling of them against him. It didn't feel good or bad, but relaxing.

A loud knock at the door had them both jumping. Mickey tossed the stack of comics aside and hurried to get his jacket back on. Ian swung both legs to the ground, but didn't unlock it yet. "What?"

"Hey, you guys wanna come down for dinner?" Fiona asked through the door. 

Mickey relaxed a little at her voice, feeling better because he had his jacket firmly in place again. Ian wished he never put it back on. He was a little bummed about it. He met Mickey's eyes and knew he looked sad. 

"Hungry?" Ian asked.

Mickey's stomach growled before he could say no. "Yeah, a little."

"Ian?" 

"Yeah, we'll be right down." Ian yelled back. Fiona's footsteps could be heard through the door as she went back down stairs. "You're coming, right?"

Mickey slid off the bed, zipping up his jacket. "Yeah, but can we eat up here? I don't want her to see anything."

As hungry as Mickey was, Ian was a little worried that his tentacles would do that dancing routine again and Fiona would notice like he did. It would be smart to get their food and convince Fiona to let them eat in his room. Only that hadn't worked out so well in the past. 

"Yeah, I can ask Fiona. She normally doesn't let us eat up here because my brother is a slob." 

"If not, that's okay."

Ian waited until Mickey stood by him before he unlocked the door and led them down the stairs and right into the kitchen that smelled like warm, amazing food. Mickey's stomach growled loudly and when Ian looked at him with a smile, he blushed. 

"There you two are. You've been up there all day."

Ian motioned Mickey to the counter but went first. "Yeah, was just showing Mickey some of my stuff."

"Well, go ahead and eat. Lip should be home soon and he'll eat the rest."

The food was laid out the entire length of the counter. It was taco night. Ian's absolute favorite. They had everything. All you could possibly want on a taco, or burrito, and more. Two different flavored meats, chicken, beans, chopped lettuce and tomatoes, cheese and hot sauce and source cream, even peppers because Lip liked it really hot. Soft and hard shelled tacos, soft ones for burritos. It was always epic and Ian's stomach let out a loud growl.

"Can we eat in my room?" Ian asked as he grabbed two plates and handed one to Mickey. Fiona gave him that look, one that said she was sick of picking up old food from under their beds. "We'll clean it up."

"You know I don't like that."

"Yeah, but Lip is the messy one. Make him eat down here." Ian countered back, whining just enough for her to say yes. She knew he was right. "I never have anyone over."

Fiona smiled. "Fine, you can eat upstairs but if I find one plate…"

She trailed off and Ian could feel Mickey shifting behind him, not wanting to piss her off anymore than he did. "You won't, promise."

With a tired shake of her head, she left them alone and went to sit in the living room with a plate of her own. Ian could hear the tv going and knew she wanted to give them a little space, or at least Mickey. Anyone who'd ever eaten somewhere for the first time was always self conscious about how much they got, or how little. She knew Mickey wouldn't want her hanging over his shoulder. 

"Well, that went well. She never says yes." Ian chuckled a little and that pink blush on Mickey's cheeks spread to his neck. "Better eat up. When Lip gets home I doubt there will be anything left."

"What kinda name is that?"

Ian shrugged and began piling his plate high with food. "Short for Phillip but he hates that. Last time I called him that, he split my lip."

Mickey shook his head. "Like Lip is any better?"

Ian chuckled. "Yeah, not really."

He was halfway to the other side of the counter where the napkins were before he realized that Mickey hadn't moved. His plate was empty. Blue eyes searched the counter and the food, but he made no move for it. 

Setting his food down, Ian made his way back over and blue eyes met his. Shy, afraid, sad, maybe. There were so many emotions in that look that Ian had no idea what to do about them. This wasn't the same as comforting Debbie when she had a nightmare, she was five. This was Mickey, still a stranger in some areas, closed off, not too into the touching, even casually. Ian couldn't just scoop him into a hug, even when Mickey probably needed one. 

"I can help." Ian said in a quiet voice. Fiona had impeccable hearing, like a mom would and he didn't want her to listen. "You can have whatever you want."

"I don't eat that much." Mickey said quietly.

That much wasn't true. Mickey cleaned out that snack bag that first night and even when it was empty, Ian could still hear his stomach grumbling. And the to-go food from the time before, Ian had no doubt that Mickey devoured that too and still wanted more. Mickey was Lip's age and he knew if Lip could eat twice the amount of his body weight, then Mickey could too. 

Ian held out his hand for Mickey's plate and with another sad, but defeated look, Mickey handed it over. Ian started piling it high, just as he did his. Only he'd look at Mickey before adding anything. Mickey preferred chicken tacos, instead of the beef ones. He liked a lot of cheese and sour cream but no tomatoes. After finding out what a Mickey taco consisted of, he made four more just like it until his plate was heavier than his own. 

"That's too much." Mickey said as he followed behind Ian to get napkins. "I probably can't even eat that much."

Without replying right away, Ian grabbed a handful of napkins, stuffed two cokes per pocket in his jeans and snatched the bottle of mild sauce before he turned to see blue eyes focused on the plate. 

"Yeah, you will. Trust me." Ian backed towards the stairs but Mickey hesitated. "Look, Fiona is used to cooking for an army. So far it's just her, us and maybe Lip later. That leaves four people that aren't here to eat. Means we need to eat more."

Mickey didn't look convinced. But when his stomach growled again and this time it must have been painful enough for him to hold onto his stomach, Mickey nodded. 

"I promise. I'll probably come down for more later." Ian offered, trying to make him believe it was alright. It seemed to work after that because he followed him. 

They sat back in front of the TV, side by side with their food on the floor in front of them. Ian put the cokes beside them and turned the TV on to South Park. 

Ian started first, digging into his food like he hadn't eaten in weeks. Both cheeks stuffed, cheese hanging from his mouth. He glanced at Mickey, not chewing on purpose so when he looked over and laughed, it would get rid of some of that awkwardness. It did. Mickey laughed so hard he snorted and lightly shoved Ian's elbow. 

They watched a full episode and ate. Mickey finished way before he did with a loud burp and one coke already empty. Ian had one chicken taco left but couldn't eat anymore. He pushed his plate towards Mickey, who was about to say no until Ian picked it up and tried to put it into his mouth. Mickey took it with a huff and another playful shove and nearly swallowed it whole. 

"Now I'm full." Mickey said with a mumbled sigh and leaned back against Ian's bed. "Food coma."

Ian grinned and leaned back as well, putting them shoulder to shoulder again. "Feels like it should be nap time."

"Mmm hmm."

"I know you said your dad was away for a while," Ian said carefully. Not wanting to dig into it but Mickey looked at him, eyes narrowed. "Would you wanna stay the night?"

"Here?"

Ian nodded. "We could play more games and stay up and get through my entire comic collection." 

Okay, maybe that sounded lame, but they'd had so much fun doing that already, why stop? Why not offer more? Mickey seemed to be enjoying himself. 

"I don't know if my mom would let me." 

"Maybe we could ask?"

His heart was beating faster, his palms a little sweaty, he was nervous for some reason and the entire thing had been his idea. There was no reason to be nervous. It was just Mickey, just comics and games. The same stuff they'd been doing all day. 

"Okay." 

Ian sat up instantly, grabbing their plates as Mickey leaned up as well, slower though, rubbing his full stomach. "We can ask Fiona then run next door?"

"Maybe I should just go." 

"But I want to." Ian said and stopped at the door. "She can't say no to both of us."

When Mickey grabbed both sides of his jacket again, something Ian noticed he did when he got a little nervous or no uncomfortable, Ian had a feeling Mickey might be worried that she would know he knew about Mickey's tentacles. 

"I won't tell her I know." Ian offered and Mickey looked up. "Or I can wait outside. Whatever you wanna do."

Mickey sighed, obviously warring with himself about every single choice he made. Ian couldn't blame him. "Come on, let's just see what Fiona says."

They joined Fiona in the kitchen just as she was cleaning up, putting leftover in containers and stacking them on the clean counter. She smiled when he set their plates in the dirty dishwasher. It was a nice smile. An easy one. One that Ian wanted to see more often and if bringing down his own plates down made it happen, then he'd do it more often. 

"You guys get enough to eat?" 

Ian burped and Fiona just laughed. "Ate too much. My food baby is due in an hour."

Fiona, being the good sport she was, just rubbed his stomach like it was an actual baby. Making them both laugh. "How about you, Mickey? Got one in there too?"

Mickey blushed but nodded. "Thank you, it was really good."

Fiona smiled wider. "You're welcome. There is always more if you want it. Lip decided to stay at a friend's so it's just us."

"What about Debbie and Carl?"

"Frank said they were staying at Grammy's house for some reason. He didn't let me know until like an hour ago though."

Typical Frank. Not dad, Frank. Fiona played the mom and the dad for the lot of them. But in all reality, they still had the ultimate say so when it came to little Debbie and Carl. Good thing they were young enough to still love them and ignore all their obvious flaws. 

Ian wished he had that sometimes. That he could pretend things were as great as he assumed they were. 

"Yeah, that sucks. I'm sorry."

Fiona gave another smile, but this one was different. It wasn't forced, but it was tired. Like she had to fight to even produce it. It made something in his stomach flip, and not in a good way. 

"You don't need to worry about that, Ian. What are you guys up to?"

Looking at Mickey, Ian hoped and prayed this went the way he hoped it would. "I was gonna ask if Mickey could stay the night tonight. Since everyone else is gone, I mean."

"Yeah, I don't see why not. Just make sure his parents say it's okay."

Mickey swallowed thickly. 

"We were about to go ask, but can you write the house number down in case she needs to call you?" Ian asked, not hesitating to name Fiona as his "parent" instead of Frank or Monica. She seemed to notice because she lightly bumped his shoulder.

"Yeah, sure." Fiona scribbled the number down and handed it to him. Then she looked at Mickey. "I can come over if she needs to talk about it."

Ian stepped back towards the doorway and grabbed ahold of Mickey's jacket sleeve and pulled him along. "Thanks, I'll let you know in a second." He turned to Mickey, still with a grip of his jacket. "Come on, let's ask."

Grabbing his jacket on the way out, Ian trailed a little behind Mickey as they left his yard and went one over into theirs. He stayed behind him up the stairs and waited as Mickey knocked once, then opened the door. 

A secret code of some sort? 

He just stood on the porch, looking around, not sure if he was allowed in or not and he didn't want to ask. 

"Hey, frosty?" Mickey tugged at Ian's sleeve like Ian did his. "You planning on comin in or you wanna freeze your balls off out here?"

Ian smiled, feeling all that anxiousness fade away within seconds. "Yeah, I'm coming."

Once Ian stomped the snow from his boots and stepped in, he noticed instantly that Mickey's house wasn't like his, in any way. For one it wasn't as crowded. No piles of worn shoes on the stairs or jackets piled at the door. The furniture was nice, comfortable looking, but not new, Ian could tell. The tv was smaller, the other items around the house were simple, no family photos on the walls, or artwork, nothing that said THEY lived there. The place could belong to anyone. 

But it had a feel to it, kinda like that once glance at Mickey's mom. It had a homey feel, warm and soft and comfortable. It made you feel at home, which was the point of a home, to make you feel like you were a part of it. So maybe they didn't have as much as his family did, it had that welcome feeling and that was better than bigger tvs and more bedrooms. 

Ian loved it instantly. 

"Just wait here, I'm gonna go find her." 

"Yeah, I'll be here." Ian smiled just so he wouldn't look so worried. It worked. Mickey nodded and bumped his arm.

It didn't take long for Ian to realize he wasn't alone standing in the living room. There was a girl there too, only further in and she seemed to be sitting on the ground at the coffee table, playing. It had to be Mickey's sister, the girl he saw that first day. Aside from being younger, she looked just like him. 

When he tried to move closer, he tripped over the edge of his own boots and nearly fell. He grunted, which drew her attention. She dropped the barbie doll in her hand and shrunk back a little, like she was afraid of him. 

"Hey, I'm Ian." He said softly and gave her his best smile. The one he used for Debbie and Carl. 

She didn't offer her name, or so much as a smile, or a glare, as Mickey had. She just sat there, blue eyes wide, afraid. She didn't even pick up her fallen barbie. 

"My sister used to have that barbie too." Ian nodded to the one on the floor and she looked down and shyly grabbed it. "She never let me play with it though. Said they were for girls."

"They are. Boys play with cars and army guys."

Ian smiled. "Yeah, maybe. I kinda liked barbies better though. There are only so many things cars can do."

She sat up at the table again and didn't shrink away when he came closer. She was wearing pajamas that looked two sizes too big, her blond hair was a mess, but he knew it was brushed. The brush itself was on the arm of the couch. She had a few dolls on the ground, a pink car and what was left of the dinner she'd been eating. 

"My dad said boys can't play with girl things." She said as a matter of fact, something Debbie did every once in a while. "He said it makes them grow up funny."

"Funny how?" Ian asked, now leaning against the back of the couch. 

She shrugged. "He just said funny but I don't think he meant in a good way. He got mad at Mickey when he tried to play with me."

Funny. Gay, maybe? Frank had a habit of calling people gay all the time, only he used another word. One that made Ian clench his jaw every single time. Frank didn't do it just to be a jerk, like Mickey's dad seemed to, but because Frank was honest to a fault. 

Playing with dolls wouldn't just make someone gay. Ian knew that, he had a friend who was gay, or thought he might be. At nine, it was hard to tell. But his friend Paul, he seemed to like the girlier things more than trucks or video games. He hung around with girls more than boys, which was odd because Ian was always scared to talk to girls...well, he was scared to talk to guys too. 

Either way, playing with dolls didn't change anyone like that and for someone, an adult, to think otherwise was just stupid. Mickey's dad was big, mean and stupid. What a great combination. 

"I think we should play with whatever we want to play with." Ian said and she, whatever her name was, tilted her head in the same way Mickey did. "Army men or dolls, I think it's for everyone."

She smiled, channeling a younger, softer Mickey. "I kinda like the army guys. They have guns and barbies don't."

Ian laughed. "Yeah, maybe they should."

"Ian."

At the sound of Mickey's voice, Ian turned and saw him standing in the doorway to what was probably the kitchen, and he had his mom with him. She looked about the same as before, soft and warm with a knitted sweater and a kind smile. Only this time, that smile wasn't able to lift all the way because her bottom lip was split down the side. She also had what was left of a black eye, like Mickey's, only older because the colors were fading. 

"Mom, this is Ian." Mickey said after a minute. 

Ian stepped away from the couch and offered his hand because he was taught manners...and not from Monica. "Nice to meet you."

She smiled again and took his hand. Hers were smaller, if that were possible. She didn't keep contact for long though and let her hand drop away. 

"Nice to meet you too, Ian. Mickey said something about a sleepover?"

Ian nodded. "I live next door."

"Are your parents okay with this?" She asked in that same soft tone. 

"Uh, my….mom, Fiona, she said it was okay." He quickly dug into his sweats for the number and handed it to her. He didn't even feel bad for lying about who exactly Fiona was. "She said to call if you needed to talk to her."

Mickey was quiet, standing next to her. Ian tried to catch his eye but they never connected. He seemed nervous. Maybe afraid Ian would ask about his mom's split lip, or why his sister seemed so afraid of someone new being inside their house. Good thing Ian didn't care about any of that, it didn't change anything for him.

"And she's sure it's okay?"

"Very sure, ma'am. We love having Mickey over at our house." Ian spoke the truth and noticed Mickey's shirt moving again, only quickly like they couldn't wait to get out. "He's welcome at any time."

"Oh, you're too sweet." She glanced at Mickey. "You didn't say how sweet he was."

Mickey groaned. "Mom….he isn't sweet, he's just..he's, fuck, he's just Ian."

Ian chuckled, especially when Mickey's mom gave him the look. 

"Mikhailo, watch your mouth!"

"Mikhailo?" Ian said in surprise, eyeing his newly found friend. "Long for Mickey I guess, hmm?"

"Mom!" Mickey whined and closed his eyes. "Please, just stop. I hate that name."

"Well, I think it's just lovely, which is why I picked it." She said with that mom tone but under that Ian could hear the love and affection. "And don't curse, please. You know I don't like it."

"Then don't call him sweet, deal?" Mickey asked with lifted eyebrows. 

God, he loved this so much. Seeing Mickey so open, even when he was complaining about everything his mom did. That's just what kids did when their parents were around. It was normal. It was the most normal thing he'd seen so far. 

"Fine, deal. I won't call him sweet."

Mickey sighed. 

"I'll call him nice, or cute because just look at that beautiful red hair." She reached forward a little, wanting to touch it. Ian smiled and tilted his head for her to grab a short lock on the side of his head. "Just incredible."

"Okay, we are leaving." Mickey huffed and moved away, heading for the stairs. 

Ian didn't follow, he just smirked at his mom as she laughed at her son. Not meanly, but in that adoring way good parents did. It wasn't until Mickey grabbed his arm that he moved back a little. Only Mickey was halfway to the stairs….

His mom gasped.

Ian looked down to see two of Mickey's tentacles holding onto him. One wrapped around his wrist again and the other holding the side of his sweats. Mickey wanted him close and used his tentacles to do it...Ian thought that was just awesome. 

"Honey…" 

"Mom, it's okay." Mickey said as he moved to stand beside Ian again and still his tentacles didn't let go. "Ian knows."

Watery blue eyes looked at him and he could see the fear. Just as Mickey's had been that first day. "Don't worry, I already promised not to tell anyone."

She looked at Mickey. "How did he find out?"

Ian answered for him when Mickey's mouth opened a few times and nothing else came out but air. "It was an accident. One just kinda came out. We've been talking about it a little."

"You told him?" She asked, surprised.

Mickey nodded, looking down. "I didn't tell him all of it. He just wasn't afraid, it didn't scare him at all."

The tentacles squeezed tighter around him and Ian reached down with his other hand to rub his fingers across the side of one of them. Mickey turned to look at them, at it, he didn't pull away or smile but it seemed like that touched helped. 

"He likes them." He said at last, quietly. 

"He won't even let me see them."

Ian moved over a little when Mickey's sister appeared at his side, looking a little sad and irritated at the same time. 

"Mandy, honey, please." Mickey's mom sighed. "We have talked about this before."

Mandy nodded sadly and glanced down. Ian knew she was looking at them, as curious as he was but Mandy hadn't been given access for a reason. Probably because if she knew anything and didn't keep it to herself, their dad would find out and Mickey already said that was bad news. 

"But I like them."

Ian looked at Mickey, who gave a sad smile. The tentacles tightened again for a moment before one released his sweats and moved past him to tug on Mandy's long hair. She smiled, all teeth. 

"Maybe we can talk about it, squirt." Mickey gave her hair another tug, then released and went right back to Ian. 

Ian felt giddy all over, like he had too much candy again, or too many cokes. Mickey was willingly using them to make his little sister feel better about not being in the loop, Mickey's mother was all smiles like Mandy, only her eyes were still watery. And Mandy was just the happiest person in the world, aside from him. 

"So, can I stay at Ian's, please?"

She nodded. "Of course. Just make sure you pack clean clothes, okay?"

With another nod from Mickey, Ian was being pulled up the stairs by Mickey's tentacles and up into his room. It was smaller than his, but he didn't have to share with Mandy. It must have been nice, but he did notice a barbie that was either Mandy's, or Mickey hid one. 

"Sorry about that." Mickey went to his closet and grabbed a bunch of clothes and tossed them into a small bag. 

Ian waited by the door, trying not to touch the tentacle still wrapped around his wrist. It didn't want to leave. Which was fine by him, he didn't want it to either. "They're nice."

"Yeah, they are." Mickey agreed without hesitation. "They like to over share though."

"Debbie and Carl are four and five, they never stop talking. They talk about nothing and everything." Ian laughed. "It doesn't bother me at all."

A bag was tossed onto the bed and Mickey was suddenly at his side again. "Thank you."

Ian nudged his arm, making that worrisome look turn into a smile. "Come on, we have more comics to read."

They made it back downstairs within moments and Ian was tentacle free for the first time in the last ten minutes. He missed it. Which he probably would each time it happened. Mandy went back to her dolls and their mom was where they left her, waiting for them. 

Mickey leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Thanks."

She all but melted, hugging him closely. Ian smiled and looked away when Mickey rolled his eyes but not in an annoyed way, just a way that a boy would when he was hugged by his mom in front of his friends. Embarrassed but not really. Mickey did return the hug and even kissed her cheek again. 

When they pulled a part, Ian pretended not to hear when she whispered "I'm so proud of you" into his ear and kissed him again. Mickey mumbled a shy, but emotional "thanks" and that was the end of it. 

"Ready?" 

Mickey stepped up next to him, his face flushed, but smiling. Ian waved at his mom, she smiled at him and returned through the doorway where she came. "Yeah, ready."

**

"You can sleep on the bed. I really don't mind." Ian insisted yet again but of course he would argue.

"Fuck no," Mickey glanced up at him. "My mom taught me better than that."

It was late. Like, three in the morning late. The house was quiet, Fiona went to bed hours ago. When they came back from Mickey's, she suckered them into playing a game of monopoly with her. They caved. They ended up around the living room table drinking sodas and eating popcorn while some movie played on the tv. They joked and cheated and Fiona kept slapping the back of his head when he cussed, which was only when Mickey did. Mickey kept his jacket on the entire time but he opened up after half an hour, joining in with the jokes and bad language. 

She won in the end because she was amazing at that game, but it was fun. Ian finally heard Mickey openly laugh again. Not giggles like before, but a full bellied laugh that had his eyes watering and his cheeks pink. Ian loved the look. It created that weird flutter in his stomach again. 

After that, they grabbed more leftover tacos and ate as they played the Xbox. Mickey won again. Then they traded piles of comics, then Ian opened his new set of legos he got for Christmas. Mickey really seemed to like those and he was good at building them, even when he swore he never tried before. 

Before they finished building the tower, Mickey started to nod off. He said he was fine, and Ian asked, a lot. But he was tired. He wasn't building anymore and he shrugged his jacket back off without putting up a fight. It was time to call it a night, which was okay. 

Only now they were fighting over who slept where. Ian offered Mickey the bed, because like Mickey, he'd been taught manners too. But Mickey said no, and kept saying no. They were at a standstill, trying not to give into the other. 

"I can just sleep in Lip's bed." Ian pointed to the top bunk. "No problem."

"Fine, you sleep there and I'll still be on the floor." Mickey suggested with a smirk. 

Ian groaned. "You are impossible." He shook his head at Mickey's laughter and moved down the hall to the closet and dug a bunch of extra blankets out. "Just watch out and we can at least add some padding to it."

Mickey stood and Ian tossed him one side of a big blanket. They worked together to stack them into something comfortable, so he wouldn't feel the hard floor underneath. It actually looked pretty comfortable. Then he grabbed the pillows from Lip's bed and laid them down for Mickey. 

"Happy now?" Ian asked and watched him flop onto his side, his face half covered by the pillow. He smiled. 

"Yes, it feels good." Mickey mumbled. 

While he was distracted, Ian grabbed his pillows and put them next to Mickey's and laid down beside him. There were still a few inches between them, certainly enough so they both had enough room. 

"What are you doing?" Mickey asked, opening one eye to look at him. 

"Deciding I'll sleep here too. Now we both win." Ian smirked and Mickey just groaned into the pillow. "I'm tired enough not to care where I sleep."

"You're such a pain the in ass."

It wasn't snappy or mean, so Ian didn't take it that way. In fact, he smiled again, or maybe he never stopped smiling. He knew Mickey meant it in a good way, in a fond way. He could just feel it.

"Guess that makes two of us, hmm?" He replied back and opened his eyes to meet Mickey's. They were sleepy, soft, curious looking again. "You okay?"

Mickey shrugged, or did his best while laying on his side. "Not sure how to feel."

"You didn't have to stay if you didn't want to." Ian swallowed and felt it get lodged in his throat.

"I wanted to. I didn't mean that…" Mickey sighed, trying to find the words. "A lot has happened recently. You happened."

Ian didn't talk because his heart was literally trying to suffocate him. He swallowed again and again but couldn't make that lump go away. 

"This is lame, but you're kinda my first friend." Mickey's cheeks reddened and Ian thought it was kinda cute the way he turned into the pillow to hide it. "Everyone else was too scared of my dad to try."

Mickey willingly bringing up his dad...that was just...BIG. 

"I only saw I'm once or twice, but he did seem pretty mean." Ian said honestly. "And I probably never want to meet him, like ever. But that's not going to stop me from being your friend."

"Yeah, I know." Mickey chuckled quietly. "That's why I don't know how to feel."

"I just want to be your friend." Ian said after a comfortable silence rolled over them. When he didn't feel like he'd be suffocated by his own words. "I just feel happy about that."

"Even if I can't do this all the time?"

This, meaning coming over to hang out or sleepovers or all the fun they'd been having. When Mickey's dad got out, that would be the end of it. 

"Yeah, even still." When there was movement below, Ian looked down and saw one of Mickey's tentacles wiggling out of his shirt. Ian watched it as it came closer and wrapped around his forearm. 

It really was like holding hands. And since Mickey couldn't bring his hand up to do it, his body found other ways. 

"I wish he'd never come back." 

His voice was softer now. His eyes were closed and his breathing had evened out into something quiet, steady. Ian knew he was already half asleep, just mumbling whatever was still at the front of his mind. 

Ian felt that similar pull, dragging him down into a restful sleep. In the front of his mind, he wished he could make Mickey's wish come true, that he'd be free and would never be afraid anymore. But he knew deep down, he could never do anything, not anything big like that. He could be there for Mickey, he could be his friend and have his back. 

That had to be enough, right?

He didn't know. He wasn't sure how to feel, or what he was feeling. It was all so new, hard at times, easy at others. The one thing he did know for sure, without a doubt, is that he was happier with Mickey around, he had more fun when he was around. Laughed more than he ever had. 

As that last thought drifted off into the nothingness of sleep, Mickey's tentacle squeezed his arm tightly, then pulled a little as if it wanted him closer. Ian shifted, letting himself be pulled until his hair brushed Mickey's. His tentacle fell still again, curling around his thumb, then up his forearm, making sure he didn't leave. And he wouldn't. 

Ian wanted to be wherever Mickey was. 

** 

The mornings after a sleepover were always the worst. Of course you'd stay up too late, eat too much junk and fall asleep in whatever position you landed in, but still, it was awful. Your head would pound and your stomach would twist in that bad way, one that might make you run to the toilet after, your muscles would ache. 

It was all normal and Ian had forgotten how hard it was to get back up the next morning. The first time your eyes opened was the worst. Especially this time because the sheet that had been blocking the window was now down around the floor, letting in all that bright, winter sunshine. 

With a deep, tired groan, Ian rolled into his back, his arm asleep and found he couldn't move very far. He looked away from the bright window, to Mickey. He was still asleep, the light snore told him that, but not all of him was asleep. All five of Mickey's tentacles were out and on him. All of them. 

One was still around his wrist, another was curled around his knee, one tangled in his hair, lightly pulling, another was lightly curled around his upper arm and the last one wasn't holding him, but gently rubbing over his cheek. Almost like Fiona did to them every once in a while, it was nice, comforting. 

They pulled lightly when he tried to move, not away, but to stretch and scoot over to give Mickey more room. They held on tightly and didn't let go. 

"I need to move." Ian whispered to them, wondering if it was as stupid as he felt. He didn't know if they listened like that. "I'll be back."

They didn't even budge. If anything they held on tighter. Ian had to smile, he tried not to giggle because it was just too sweet. Mickey reaching out for him in the middle of the night, maybe unaware, maybe he was fully aware. Ian didn't know. He didn't really care. He liked it. 

The one rubbing his cheek moved, not away, but up to his forehead to give his hair a little tug, then down to tickle his ear, under his chin for a swipe, then back to his cheek. Ian noticed himself rubbing his face against it, like you might a hand if it held your face like that. He nuzzled it, chuckled a little but left it alone. 

The moment Mickey woke up, that would be the end of it. He'd probably be embarrassed, pull them back and the morning would start out all awkward. Which would suck, because they had an amazing night. That's the last thing Ian wanted. So, he left them for as long as he could, which wasn't long because he really needed to get up. 

"Mickey?" Ian called softly, trying not to startle him. "You awake?"

Mickey turned his head into the pillow and groaned. "No. Back to sleep."

As Mickey turned on his other side, Ian was forced to move with him, sliding until his head was on Mickey's pillow. "I need to pee."

"Why is that my problem?" Mickey grumbled but didn't move. 

Ian giggled then. "Because you're kinda all over me and I really have to pee."

At that, Mickey turned back over, eyes wide at what he saw. And as Ian knew he would, he scrambled to get them all back under control. They quickly unwound from his body and went back under Mickey's shirt. 

"Shit, I'm sorry."

Ian sat up, hating how upset he looked. "Don't be. It's fine. Just needed to get up is all."

Mickey shook his head. "I should have just slept on the damn bed so that didn't happen."

"Mickey," Ian touched his arm when he was about to bolt up. Mickey stopped, eyes focused on him. "Look, I have no idea how long we slept like that, but I haven't slept that good since before my little brother and sister were born."

A calmness spread around the room. Ian could see Mickey's shoulders relax just a little. 

"If I didn't have to pee, I'd have left them and slept longer." Ian smiled again and squeezed his arm. "I'll be back. Then we can get some food."

"Yeah, okay." Mickey said quietly and wrapped the blanket around him. 

Ian left him there to use the bathroom, brush his teeth and pull on whatever hoodie that had been hanging on the bathroom door. When he came back, Mickey was still in the same place, only one of his tentacles were out.

"I don't know why they like you."

Ian laughed and curled back into their makeshift bed. "Gee, thanks."

Mickey shoved him, smiling in the way that made Ian's heart pound. "Shut up, you know what I mean. I don't know why they keep touching you."

"Because I'm way cooler than you, obviously." Ian said in a mock serious tone but couldn't keep from laughing. Mickey laughed too, a sound he always wanted to hear. "Whatever the reason is, I'm glad they do."

They shared another silence, one filled with shy smiles. They had an understanding, a bond. One Ian never had with anyone else. Not even his brother. Not so soon anyway. It was new, but strong. 

Just as Ian was about to suggest breakfast again, a loud crash came from downstairs. Ian knew that sound, it happened more than once when Frank came home drunk. It was the sound of the door being kicked in, or down. 

"What was that?" Mickey asked, huddling into himself. 

"Probably Frank, my dad. He likes to bust down doors when he's drunk and can't get it." Ian rolled his eyes and got up to shut and lock the door. "He'll just go to bed and won't remember."

*My dad does that too, only he doesn't just go to bed."

Ian eyed Mickey's black eye. 

This time was different. There was no belligerent ranting or slurring as Frank came up the stairs. But Fiona, probably downstairs drinking coffee, she gave a loud yell, then silence. 

Ian stood, on edge as those loud, stomping steps finally made it to the stairs. He watched the door and kept himself in front of Mickey without a second thought. The door rattled on its hinges as whoever it was came closer. 

"I'm calling the cops!!" Fiona shouted. 

With wide eyes, Ian reached for the bat that was propped up against the side of his bed and held it like he learned how. Hands and feet apart, his grip tight, eye on the ball...or the door. Mickey stood, nearly pressed against his back. He was scared, no doubt about that, but there was no way he could stop, even if he wanted to. It just wasn't in him. 

"Ian!!" Fiona called again, louder this time. 

"Ian." Mickey whispered, one tentacle around Ian's waist, holding him or holding onto him, Ian didn't know. But he was grateful. "That's my dad."

Deep breath as doors down the hall were being pushed open so hard they slammed against the wall. He was searching for Mickey.

"I kinda figured that much." Ian loosened his grip on the bat, then tightened it over and over again. "The cops are on their way."

Mickey hunkered down as the door started to rattle. "They won't make it."

The doorknob rattled a few times before the door began to bend, he was putting his entire weight onto the door, trying to break it down. Ian kept as calm as he could, which he wasn't, he just didn't want Mickey to freak out more than he already was. Truth was, this was about to be painful for all of them. There was no stopping that. 

"I'm sorry."

Ian didn't release the bat to hug him back, but leaned back against him. It was the best he could do. "Don't be."

The door was suddenly being kicked in and it had that same signature smack against the wall like the others did. Mickey's dad stood tall in the doorway, menacing and cruel like a bull, huffing and snarling and glaring. Ian could feel the hate inside that man and wished Mickey had someone better to call his dad. 

"There you are." He growled, and Ian felt the house shake. 

"You need to leave." Ian said firmly, wishing his voice didn't shake like his shoulders started to. "My sister called the cops, they'll be here soon."

He laughed. A deep, awful sound. "They'd never make it in time, boy."

Ian clenched his jaw. "Maybe not, but they'll be knocking on your door after this is over."

The man didn't seem scared by his half-assed threats. Ian could see it in his smile. It was confirmed when the bat was easily taken from him, even when he tried his best to hold onto it. The man flung it aside so hard it dented the wall.

"Move." He growled. 

Ian shook his head. "Leave."

Within seconds, before Ian had time to blink, he was being shoved out of the way, ripped away from Mickey's embrace and tossed against the same wall the bat made contact with. He hit hard, his arm smashed. He knew it was broken, he could feel it. But that didn't stop him from getting back up. 

Mickey was being pulled from the room by the scruff of his shirt. Dragged over blankets and pillows. They made it to the stairs before Ian could catch up and he ran down after them as fast as he could. 

"Ian!" Fiona cried from the kitchen, nursing a split lip and the makings of a black eye. 

Ian didn't stop for more than a moment to make sure she was okay before he was out the front door after them. Mickey was fighting it, pulling against him and trying to grab the fence. Pulling at his dad's knuckles, his bloodied knuckles, giving Ian some kind of idea how he knew where Mickey was. Either Mickey's mom was forced to tell him, or his sister was. 

Fighting just made it worse. Mickey's dad backhanded him just as Ian unlocked the gate with one hand. Their eyes met for a moment, blue to green and he could already see the new bruise on Mickey's other eye. He couldn't stop it. He couldn't help. He couldn't do anything. 

"Mickey!" Ian cried just as the door was slammed in his face. He blinked back tears. 

He beat against it like a child. Using both fists, even the one on his broken arm. He didn't feel it yet. He just wanted the door open, he wanted Mickey safe and it wasn't going to happen. 

No one came to the door. Not even Mickey's dad. No sound could be heard inside and he put his ear to the door to hear it. Just nothing. 

Fiona had to pull him away from the door. He went because he had no choice. The door wasn't going to open again, he might never see Mickey again and it broke a little piece inside him. 

All that happiness gone in an instant. 

**

The cops showed up after all, but nothing came of it. Ian watched all of them come to the door with smiles on their faces, even Mickey. His was the widest. They talked for a few minutes, assured the cops there had been a mistake and that everyone was fine...as they could see, before the cops apologized and left.

It made him sick. 

His arm was broken. After the cops left and Mickey's dad glared at him from across the lawn, Fiona took Monica's car and drove them to the hospital. They were there two hours where they x-rayed it multiple times, then put a big, bulky cast over it, and sent him home with pain meds.

Fiona was a little worse for wear. She had a split lip from where he shoved her into the kitchen table, a black eye as well. But it was ugly. Uglier than his arm. She kept asking why he was so mad, or what set him off, but Ian couldn't just tell her without exposing Mickey's secrets and he wasn't willing to do that. So he just said Mickey's dad was an abusive asshole and she took him at his word. 

That much was clear to see. 

He cried on the way home. Not because of his arm because that didn't hurt as much as he thought it would, but because of what had happened. He cried for Mickey, he cried for their lost friendship. Those tears only fell faster when they pulled up at their house and noticed the front door to Mickey's was standing wide open. 

Ian rushed out, climbing over the gate as Fiona chased after him. He pushed it open and was met with nothing. Absolutely nothing. No Mickey, no Mandy, no furniture. Just nothing. Everything was gone. 

Mickey was gone.


	2. Destiny

Safe To Be You and Me  
Part 2 of 3  
Destiny

(10 years later)

College life wasn't all that it was made out to be. On TV, there were frat parties and drinking and naked girls, you get good grades even when you don't study and at the end of a four year term you graduate with honors and memories to last you well into adulthood. It wasn't really like that. 

College was hard. Especially if you were pre-med, like Ian. 

Through high school, he worked his ass off and put all his wants and desires on the back burner for later in life. He didn't go to parties or break curfew, he didn't do anything to fuck up his one and only chance to get into college, his scholarship. Without it, he'd just be another worthless Gallagher and the world already had too many of those. 

No, he did his school work as proficiently as possible. He went to school on time, left on time, made it to work at the corner store on time, made as much money as he possibly could to help with bills and the kids, and kept his nose clean. 

Of course that meant he had little to no social life. He had maybe one or two close friends, who were just like him. More focused on getting out of their shitty life and into something bigger. It fueled their friendship, they relied on each other but very little fun was ever had. No drinking or parties or sleeping with randoms, just late night studying and trying to make something of themselves and each other. 

As for companionship, that was a bigger nothing than the other nothing's. The first part that made it hard to connect, aside from his limited social life, was that he was gay. Totally and completely gay. Being gay and from the south side was a big NO. He made the mistake of looking too closely at one of the basketball players and got his ass handed to him, even when he did his best to fight back.

Ian learned a long time ago that he was gay. Or funny, which he remembered a little girl from his childhood using. Ian was funny, Ian was gay and he accepted himself but had to be careful. His family knew, those one or two close friends also, but that was it. He wanted someone, he had needs and desires like everyone else, but his had nowhere to go. 

That left a lot of time and need for self love and porn, he kinda developed a little addiction for it. It was safe, it was free, he had access and no one had to know it was HIM who was in need of stuff like that. He indulged, a lot. 

He thought being in college, being older and more comfortable with his sexuality would make finding someone easier. That he'd be able to be himself and spend all his free time trying to connect with someone, with any make someone. Only being pre-med, he had zero time for all that. He barely had time to eat and sleep.

Speaking of no sleep, Ian was dragging his sorry excuse for a human ass back into class after an all nighter at the library. He was cramming for three tests and had an essay to write. No amount of coffee or five hour energy shots would help. Ian sat in the middle of the stands, not able to handle the intensity of their professor's loud voice in the front but couldn't focus his eyes if he sat too far in the back. So, the middle it was. 

Anatomy class was not his favorite in his long list of classes. He didn't want to spend an hour and a half talking about the human body...human, mostly. The board of education still refused to include non human anatomy classes, which he'd rather take. Non human was a gross slur for those select people who had tentacles. Most people viewed them as monsters or aliens, non humans. It had been nearly seventy years since the first case was found and documented, and who knows how long the world remained ignorant to others around them way before that first case, you'd think people would grow out of the gate and uncertainty. That wasn't the case. Just like gender and skin color, it was always going to be an issue.

The part he hated the most, was that nearly half the class always had a problem with it when it was mentioned. Like children, they'd get all huffy and opinionated and some even left the class altogether. But that was their loss, tuition covered the class anyway, even when the student was a moron. Ian just despised the drama people created when it was brought up, it made coming to class every day a challenge. 

But he wasn't going to quit. He wanted to learn more about the anatomy of Cthulhu's; people with tentacles. Since his childhood, all those memories, all the short lived experiences, he was a little obsessive. He wanted to learn all he could about every part of them, their body, their tentacles and functions, just all of it. 

Before all those memories could come swarming back, the door closed loudly and class was beginning. He watched their professor cross the room in a hurry, carrying a messenger bag so stuffed it wouldn't even zip and a large cup of coffee. Ian needed coffee.

"Morning everyone." She said in a loud, booming voice so it reached those in the back, nearly up by the rafters. She set her bag down on her messy desk and moved to the podium. 

A few people replied, Ian didn't. He was too busy wondering how strong that coffee was and reminding himself to get one ASAP after class was over. Maybe coffee would help him focus like he needed to. 

"Okay, today we are learning about the sexual anatomy of the Cthulhu body."

There was a collective groan from the entire class, Ian included. But his protest wasn't because he didn't want to hear about it, it was because he wanted to hear all of it. He wanted the graphic descriptions and the images and the how-to guide. 

"Do we have to?" Someone asked from the back in what Ian could only describe as a whine. Like a child. 

Ian watched the professor smile, like she wasn't affected by the annoying tone. "Of course not, Mister Rollins. This class is for those who want to learn about anatomy to further their own skills in their upcoming career paths. If you don't think this class is worth your time, please feel free to leave any time."

Ian grinned when the rest of the class let out a round of muffled laughter. Yeah, Rollins didn't have to stay and take the class. The professor would still get paid, the kid would flunk out of class and it would follow him around for the rest of his college life. But like everyone else, he wasn't willing to do that, so he gave a curt nod and kept his mouth shut. 

"Now, if anyone has a problem with our subject material for today, please leave now." She motioned towards the door when a few people stood up. "But whatever you miss today will be an automatic zero, as will the rest of the week because we are going to be talking about this for the next few days."

Those who stood up, mostly dumbass jocks who hated anyone who was different, guys that Ian used to want to be, liked, popular, attractive, they took a seat and did their best not to talk out like Rollins did. 

"And please let me remind you that we are professional in my classroom. Questions are more than welcome, but let's keep it clean. If you hope to become at least a little successful in the medical profession, you need to learn the anatomy of all, male, female and Cthulhu."

Ian watched Rollins shift in his seat, trying not to make eye contact when she looked at him directly. Rollins was one of those guys that couldn't quit while they were ahead. They always had to get the last word in, they always made that one nasty remark that would upset the entire class. That was Rollins. 

When no one else spoke up, their professor continued with a smile, totally unphased. "Wonderful. Now, we spent the last few weeks talking about gross anatomy which was divided into three categories. Today, we are talking about sexual anatomy, specifically Cthulhu because I know for a fact it wasn't taught at any schools you all attended and I'm sure you will encounter at least one on your journey."

Ian smiled, remember ocean blue eyes and that bubbly laugh. 

"Reproductive and sexual anatomy includes your genitals and internal and reproductive organs. Everyone's reproductive and sexual anatomy looks a little different. Reproductive and sexual anatomy, also known as sex anatomy, includes the sex organs on the outside of your body and the sex and reproductive sex organs on the inside of your body. Some examples of sex organs are the vulva, which includes the vagina, and penis. Reproductive organs include things like the uterus and testicles."

The class seemed to shift all together, some crossing their legs, others adjusting their jeans. Ian leaned back, his legs spreading just enough because any sex talk for a virgin was sure to make them pop a boner on demand.

"Now, the sexual anatomy of a Cthulhu, both male and female, are pretty much the same as the rest of us. We have all the same parts, the same reproductive organs, we all have sex the same ways, only with Cthulhu, they have...let's just call it a little help."

"Help?" Someone asked, a woman this time and she sounded genuinely curious. 

Ian sat forward in his seat, the sleep in his eyes no longer there, the need for coffee and sleep forgotten. He was totally alert, so much so that when a book dropped next to him, he jumped in his seat. A few people looked at him, eyes narrowed. Ian blushed and looked away, trying to focus. 

This is what he wanted to know. Not just sexual, but since hitting puberty all those years ago, it had been on his mind. How sex might be different when there were literally five other appendages to assist. Pulling and touching and sucking and wrapping around certain parts of his body.

Fuck. Yeah, he needed to know. 

"As you know, or should know if you've had any decent education, most have up to five tentacles, some less, it depends on the person."

Everyone gave a collective nod. 

"You can think of your skin as one big sex organ, with it's millions of sensitive nerves. Parts of your body that when touched make you feel aroused are called 'erogenous zones.' Not everyone has the same erogenous zones, but common ones are breasts and nipples, the anus, neck, lips, mouth, tongue, back, fingers and toes, hands, feet, earlobes and inner thighs." 

She took a deep breath, making sure everyone was following before she continued. She took a deep breath. "You get the idea: Any part of your body can be considered sexual depending on how it makes you feel."

And tentacles, Ian added for himself. Not that he had any of course, but from what he remembered vaguely, when touched, it could be considered sexual. His professor seemed to agree. 

"Now add tentacles to that list. Imagine all the ways they can be used sexually, able to stimulate those other sensitive parts of the body when the hands or the mouth is otherwise occupied. Cthulhu have up to five extra sets of hands...if you will, to use when theirs are busy."

Ian let out a soft moan, one no one heard because she was too busy speaking still. He suddenly imagined all the ways they could be used, touching and pulling and sucking and stroking. He imagined them at his cock, maybe at his nipples, teasing while the rest of his body was being devoured but a dark haired, blue eyed man. 

"Fuck." Ian said as he dropped his head down to his desk and squeezed his legs together. 

"Now Cthulhu's--"

"Grapplers." Someone said under their breath, like through a cough as if no one would hear them. It was almost like a racial slur, only for Cthulhu. 

Ian looked up, desire put on hold as anger and irritation rolled in, clenched his jaw and one fist curled on his desk. 

"Out, Mister Rollins." Their professor said in a deep, unamused voice. She even pointed to the door. "Do not come back to my class."

They had to sit through nearly five minutes of Rollins trying to talk his way out of it. Saying he was sorry, that he didn't mean it, that it wasn't him. All those sorry ass excuses, which made him sound like the uneducated child he was. But she was having none of it. 

"Out."

Rollins packed up his things as loudly as possible, jerked the top to his desk up and all but stomped to the doors, which he slammed on the way out. Like a fucking child. That's all he was. 

"As I was saying," she paused for dramatic effect, almost daring someone else to speak. "Now, these tentacles are just like any other part of the body. They have muscles, and nerves, they can be sensitive to touch, although that depends mostly on the person. As far as we know, which isn't much since not a lot of these spectacular cases haven't been documented, the host has full control over them, but during high stress times, or intense pleasure, they are known to act on the host wants."

Someone raised their hand and Ian turned to see a girl in the back, blushing. "These... tentacles, can be used for intercourse?"

"Yes, they can. Of course that's not their main function, but the body has needs, and everyone engages in masterbatory sessions. I imagine having tentacles would enhance that very much, much more than say you or me, or anyone else without them."

Ian swallowed thickly. He vaguely remembered that picture, the one he first saw when he had the nerve to look up 'tentacles' for research. They'd been in all kinds of places, in and on the body, in various ways and in a number of different sizes. Then it was scary, now it was interesting. 

"Has anyone ever come into contact with a Cthulhu before, knowingly, I mean? Or do you know someone now, are friends with them perhaps?" The professor asked, eyes scanning the crowd. 

Ian did as well. He looked from the bottom, then turned all the way up to the top, wondering if anyone had the balls to say they did. Then he wondered if he had the balls to say it. 

"Or maybe one of you are in this class?" She asked after a minute, with nothing but acceptance on her face. 

No one moved. No one spoke up or came forward. 

"Well, if there is and you'd rather not be known, which after what Mister Rollins demonstrated, I understand why, my office is always open if you'd rather come to me privately with any questions. I'd be more than happy to sit and talk with you about it."

Silence. Crickets should have been chirping. 

Ian hoped someone would speak up, he wanted to learn more and see if anyone else aside from him had any kind of experience, although not sexual. Those wonderful days, even if it was a lifetime ago, were some of the best Ian had. Before and after it happened. 

He didn't even mind when his arm liked to ache where it had been broken. It wasn't nothing he couldn't handle and left a reminder of it, letting him know that it actually happened and hadn't just been in his wild, adolescent imagination. 

Before the professor moved onto a different topic, Ian took a shallow, panic induced breath and slowly raised his hand. All eyes were on him, most wide and afraid, except hers. She was smiling at him like he won some award from a well known medical journal. 

"Mister Gallagher, thank you for being brave enough to raise your hand." She paused as an excited laugh bubbled up her throat. "Would you like to share a little about your experience?"

Licking his lips, Ian lowered his hand so he didn't look like a creep. He tried to block out all those eyes on him, full of questions or judgement. Instead he focused on her, on her smile, on her genuine curiosity. 

"I don't know what to say." Ian said quietly and couldn't help but compare this to being in a new class every year in grade school. The "stand up and tell us about yourself" shit people hated. "It was a long time ago."

"When you were kids?"

Ian nodded. "When I was nine, he moved in next door to me." 

Before he could keep going, a paper ball was launched at the back of his head. Ian flinched, the room chuckled and he had to wonder if they already hated him because he chose to like someone different, to call them a friend, more than a friend actually. 

"Act like adults, or leave." She said sternly, almost wielding that motherly tone of disappointment. Then she turned back to him with a smile. "I can assume he didn't want to talk about any of that."

"Not at first, or at all really." Ian gave a nervous chuckle, trying to arrange his thoughts and feelings that came with these old memories. Ones he tried not to think about. "I only found out because I saw one of his tentacles by accident."

The class grew quiet and Ian wondered again about those missing crickets. 

"It was…" he sighed, remembering that feeling. "It was incredible."

Another paper ball was tossed at the back of his head, only harder this time and Ian clenched his teeth. Turning around would only make it worse, he chose to ignore it. 

"Mister Milkovich, if you don't stop, you're getting tossed outta here. Understand?"

A discernable slew of grumbles and curses followed. Ian was sitting in front of him and could barely understand what he said. "Fuck" for sure, possibly calling her a bitch too but the rest was muffled due to the raging pulse of his heartbeat. 

"Well, Mister Gallagher, thank you for sharing a little bit of your experience with us. I personally have only known one other person who had them, but I know how wonderful the experience was." She sighed, as if remembering like he was. "Since you were the only one to speak out, do you have any personal questions that might help you make sense of some of it?"

Oh, he had questions. Millions of them. Most sexual because hey...he was a virgin and all too curious about sex like THIS. But he didn't want to embarrass himself, or show just how desperate he was. 

"From what I experienced, which wasn't much actually, it seemed like he couldn't control them very well. Or he could and just wouldn't…"

She nodded. 

"Was that just because he was younger or like you said and the tentacles act on the hosts wants?"

"That's a very good question. And I'm sure since he was younger when this all happened, that he had a hard time trying to sync them up with his body and his feelings. But he could have been afraid to try and control them because he wouldn't just be able to let them out without people openly staring."

That was truer than she knew. He'd been denied the time and instruction to learn how to control them, to learn the ways he could use them...aside from grabbing comic books. 

Mickey. His childhood friend. The best days of his life he experienced being with Mickey. Their single sleepover, even when it ended in a way neither of them could have imagined. It was a painfully pleasant memory that he didn't let himself indulge in very often. 

"Yeah, he didn't want anyone to know I knew about them. But I wouldn't have told anyone." Ian said confidently and earned her smile of approval and respect. "He was just starting to open up when…" his voice quivered a little and he hated himself for that open display of weakness. "He moved away shortly after that."

That same person behind him, whoever the hell Milkovich was, kicked at the back of his chair three times before he stopped. Ian sucked back all that raw emotion, letting loss and grief turn into anger and annoyance.

"Your friend…" she paused, waiting for the first name. 

Ian was just about to tell her his first name, something he never did and no one but Fiona knew of their brief friendship, Milkovich threw his last paper ball. Ian spun around so fast, ready to tell him to back the fuck off, only to be stopped dead in his tracks. 

His entire life began to fall all around him. His anger vanished as if it had never been there before, that raw emotion he stuffed away tried to claw its way back up his throat so fast he couldn't breathe. Suddenly the paper balls made sense, always thrown just when he was about to divulge some personal information about his childhood friend, trying to urge him to shut up because he didn't want to be the topic of discussion. 

That friend was Mickey, who was sitting right behind him. 

Mickey Milkovich.

"Oh, my God." Ian whispered, feeling the tears pool on the corners of his eyes. 

He looked exactly the same, just older. Obviously that's how it worked. But seeing someone you used to know a decade ago, appear right in front of you like magic, it was...it felt like magic. His hair was the same, only a little more wild, cut short on the sides but left longer on top. Somehow his eyes were bluer than he remembered, like a deep, dark ocean; beautiful but untamed and a little dangerous. Even the no-smile smile was the same. The baby fat to his cheeks and under his chin was gone, giving him a nice sturdy looking jaw. He only reached a height of about 5'10, if he had to guess just from him sitting down, but it felt like he went up like a three story building. 

He looked fucking amazing. 

"Get a hold of yourself for fucks sake before she asks what your problem is." Mickey snapped in a whisper and Ian had to hold onto the back of his chair as he swayed to the side. 

His voice, deep and demanding with that same snarky attitude but Ian knew under all that was a sweet, soft, caring boy...man. He was a man now.

"Mister Gallagher?" 

Ian forced his eyes away from Mickey, although it felt it felt like if he looked away, Mickey would vanish into thin air again for another ten years. Ian couldn't handle that. 

"Ian!" Mickey snapped again and kicked his chair. 

Ian coughed, trying to silence whatever he'd been about to say to Mickey and looked forward again. Great, all those eyes were on him now, on them. Even the professors, her eyebrows narrowed in concern. 

"Yeah?" Ian asked dumbly, feeling his face flamed from his chest to the tips of his hair. It felt like it was on fire. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"You were about to tell me your friends name, I think. But names don't really matter here." She assured with a friendly but dismissive wave of her hand. "Did you have any more questions?"

The hot stare at his back made sweat run down the sides of his neck, trickling annoyingly into his shirt. He swiped at it, trying to stay under the radar and knew he needed to shift this conversation away from him, away from them but to do that, he had to say no to her question, when really it was yes, he did have more questions. 

"No, I don't." Ian lied through his teeth, annoyed until he heard Mickey let out a deep, relieved breath. "But thank you."

"If you want to talk about it more in private, my office is open." She offered again, with the same consistent smile. "Okay, now, let's move on."

While she spoke about how to properly stimulate someones tentacles, in great, shockingly sexy detail, Ian closed this notebook and casually slid it down into his lap, covering his reoccurring problem since the class started. She talked about where to touch, how soft or hard to touch them, what not to do, like pull too hard on them. It was excruciating. 

"You pop a boner in here and they'll never let you live it down." 

Ian tense at the deep, wonderful sound of Mickey's voice in his ear. And of course, his body being the traitorous bastard that it was, got even harder. With a glance down, Ian watched that damn notebook shift. 

Moving notebooks with dick power... awesome. Just what he needed. 

It went on and on and on. Her talking, making every inch of him imagine what sex with someone with tentacles would be like. He had to block it all out, literally. He had a finger in each ear, humming to the first song on his mind. It helped, he couldn't hear her or any of those sexual things and most of all, he couldn't hear Mickey. 

When the bell rang, Ian was the first one up, books stuffed into his bag and he ran to the exit. He must have looked like a spaz, but he didn't give a shit. He needed out, he needed away, he needed relief. 

As the hallway filled with people, Ian used his broad shoulders to shove people out of the way. He darted into the bathroom, made sure no one was under any of the stalls and flipped the lock. Sagging against the door, Ian dropped his bag and tore into his jeans with a sort of need that he hadn't experienced yet. 

The moment his hand made contact with his cock, he was almost done. The entire conversation in that class flowed into his mind, the descriptions, the images, him remembering Mickey, Mickey sitting behind him, talking in that deep, rumbling voice. 

He came before he had a chance to stop it, or prolong it. Ian bit the side of his arm to muffle his sounds before they echoed into the hallway and stroked himself through it. Slowly, painfully slow until it was too much. 

Ian released himself with a sticky grip and frog marched to the sink, his jeans down by his thighs. He washed his hands then pulled his jeans up. One look in the mirror and he was sure as soon as he stepped outside, anyone who saw him would know. The look was unmistakable.

Hopefully, if the entire world wasn't against him like he felt it was, Mickey would be long gone. Unable to witness his humiliation and shame. 

After splashing water on his flushed face, Ian grabbed his bag, made sure his zipper was up and unlocked the door. He peeked out to see a crowded hallway but thankfully, no one was paying any attention to him. He slipped out, breathing deeply and turned the corner, only to run smack dab into Mickey.

Ian's face paled, his eyes widened and against his will, his body reacted, twitching in interest. Mickey was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and wore that same smirk Ian had seen a time or two before. 

"You were barely in there five minutes." Mickey said with a laugh. "At least tell me it was worth it."

Blushing the same color as his hair, Ian adjusted his bag on his shoulder and looked around to make sure no one was watching. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yes, the fuck you do." Mickey laughed again and pulled Ian further into the semi private doorway by a light grip on his arm. "What, no hello?"

In an instant the sexually tense part of all of that stopped. The conversation turned into something warm and familiar like a flash and once again Ian felt all those emotions bubble up, bringing tears into his eyes. 

"Mickey." Ian whispered, trying to fully take in his appearance but he couldn't look away from his smile.

"Well at least you remember my name, hmm?" 

Ian was fine until Mickey did that thing he always did. The trying to cover up his smile with the tip of his tongue thing. It poked into the corner of his mouth and Ian just about lost it. He dropped his bag and pulled Mickey into a crushing hug. 

"Hey, easy now." Mickey said in a somewhat amused tone, but Ian could hear the emotion under it. Especially when he hugged him back, arms around his waist, face buried in his neck. "It's okay."

Squeezing tighter, Ian pushed his face into the top of Mickey's shoulder and took a deep breath. That same Mickey smell lingered like it had back then, warm and homey and all the things he missed. The tears were silent as they fell, soaking into Mickey's shirt, but he didn't seem to mind. 

"I missed you." Ian croaked, his voice totally shot. Just talking made the tears fall faster and he couldn't even be embarrassed for losing it so hard. "Fuck."

Mickey sniffled and Ian cried harder. "Missed you too, man."

The hug went on for longer than it should have for two almost friends. Even if they'd known each other that entire ten years, that hug was still really long. Ian didn't want to let go, he wanted that smell in his nose and his face pressed into Mickey's shoulder, he wanted Mickey clinging to his back, giving those little sniffles, the soft words. 

What everyone else thought when they looked at them didn't bother him. Ian stopped caring about things like that, like image and why he's hugging a man so hard, or that maybe they'd think he's gay...and he was, but they didn't need to know. Mickey didn't seem to care either because he never tried to pull away. If he did, Ian would have let go. 

"Okay, shit." Ian gave a wet laugh, squeezed once more and slowly pulled back. Mickey held on for a moment as well before his hands slipped away and they were face to face. "Sorry, I'm not really sure what that was."

Mickey smiled and wiped the corners of his eyes, not trying to hide it whatsoever. "No, I get it. Trust me."

"I can't believe you're here." Ian blurted, grabbing him by both shoulders and gave a little shake just to make sure. "You're really here."

Mickey smiled. "Yeah, we both are. I never expected to see you again. I mean, I always hoped I did, but I didn't think it would be easy like this."

"Easy, huh?" Ian shook his head, chuckling. "All it took was ten years and you throwing paper balls at my head."

Their smiles slipped at the same time. Yeah, it was fun to joke about how easy it all seemed but it was anything but easy. It had been hard to let go when you never understood what happened in the first place. It made it nearly impossible to move on and when you thought you had, life throws you a curveball and voila, everything is as it used to be again. 

"Is there somewhere we can talk?" Ian asked and looked around to see more than a few pairs of eyes on them. "Somewhere that's not here I mean."

Mickey also glanced around and pulled Ian closer. Ian noticed and a shot of excitement flowed under his skin. "Later?"

"No, like right now." 

"I have class. You have class."

Ian put his hand over Mickey's that was still holding his elbow. "I'm not gonna be able to focus after this shit. Please."

When Mickey just looked at him, and looked, and looked, Ian thought he might say no. That whatever he'd been feeling since they saw each other was one sided, until Mickey gave a little tilt of his head. 

"I gotta drop an essay off for my next class, then we can talk?"

Ian was nodding before the first word left his lips. "Yeah, anywhere."

That same old blush was back and Ian watched it spread to his neck. "This talk needs to happen in private. So, my dorm or yours?"

"My roommate has been cramming for an exam for the last two days and he's in a bitchy mood. Probably not a good idea."

"My roommate transferred out last week, so I've got it all to myself."

To keep them from just standing huddled in a corner near the men's room, Ian nodded in a direction and Mickey followed his lead, possibly going towards his next class. They walked side by side, Ian even slowed his pace down so their arms could keep bumping together. 

"Why'd he transfer?" 

Mickey just looked at him. "You know why."

Ian shook his head. "What a fucking prick."

"Oh, finally got that cursing thing down, huh?" Mickey teased, bumping Ian's arm. "I remember the time I kicked your butt at that video game."

Unimaginable happiness exploded within his chest. Making his laugh seemed a little giddy and way too desperate. "Well, you did kick my butt then and I'm sure you would now."

"I can't really blame him though." Mickey said and got them back on track to their conversation. "Us living together was a damn nightmare. Both on edge, walking on fucking eggshells. I didn't feel comfortable there because I couldn't just be me."

They stopped at a door, Mickey's next class which was already in session. And still they stood there, taking the time to meet each other eyes. "And are you okay with just being you?"

Mickey gave a shy smile and Ian saw what he'd been wanting to see for years, the bottom of Mickey's shirt wiggling again. Not a lot, and not enough for anything to happen, but it was there. "Yeah, I'm good with just being me."

Like he was being drawn in closer, Ian put his hand on the doorframe above Mickey's head, essentially looking down at him. It put their faces close, but since he was a bit taller, it wasn't an exact match for good quality eye contact. He had to look down while Mickey looked up and they met in the middle.

"I was hoping you'd say that." Fuck, his voice was low and Mickey noticed and flashed a shy smile. "I'll wait."

Mickey opened the door. "It'll just take a second."

Mickey slipped into the room and Ian watched him walk. Paying extra close attention to his back. He was looking for another one of those wiggles and got something better. The tip of one of his tentacles poked out the bottom of his shirt before Mickey passed the rows of students, then sucked back in like it had never been there. 

Ian smiled a smile he hadn't felt in years. Maybe that smile belonged to Mickey and his adorable, insistent tentacles. Maybe the moment he and Mickey found each other again, Ian found that smile, all those feelings, maybe he welcomed them this time instead of pushing them down. Maybe it didn't even hurt so bad. 

This time would be different for them. This time wouldn't be filled with fear and confusion. They didn't have to be careful about what they said and when, or what would happen if someone saw them together. It was just them, for the first time in their lives, no looming shadows, no fear. Just them. It was all different now. 

God, he wanted to cry. He even felt his eyes welling up yet again, because of nothing but happiness. Pure happiness. 

He couldn't cover it up in time. Mickey opened the door and met him back on the other side. Blue eyes a little surprised, searching. As Ian smiled and wiped the tears away, Mickey's hand landed on his arm. 

"I'm okay." Ian assured him with a watery, but happy laugh.

"You don't look okay. You're crying."

"Yeah, but not in a bad way." Ian wiped his eyes and nodded towards the exit. Mickey hesitated. "Ready?"

"Yeah, if you are."

This time Ian grabbed him, at the wrist instead of the arm and it was almost them holding hands. Mickey didn't fight him, he smiled a little and allowed himself to be tugged to the door. "I've been ready for this."

**  
As it turns out, Ian was not as ready as he thought he'd be. He assumed they'd get to Mickey's room, joke and tease their way to the answers to all of his questions. Yeah, there would be some hard parts, but there would be more good parts. He wanted to hear all about Mickey's life. 

But the moment they stepped into the room, it was chaos. 

Mickey unlocked the door and invited him in, like anyone would. Ian stepped in but he didn't see anything. Not the decor of the room, or what might have been hung up on the walls, not any of Mickey's personal items. Just nothing. The tears started back again, heavy this time and not even taking deep breaths helped slow it down.

It was like all that happened back then was on pause. For ten years it was on pause and now someone hit play and it was like they picked up where they left off. Ian was suddenly nine again with a broken arm and a broken spirit. Mickey was eleven and being dragged into his house, lying to the cops, then he was just gone. 

All that built up anxiety and fear and sadness just came spilling out and Ian didn't know how to shut it all off. 

"You're gonna hyperventile if you don't calm down." Mickey said calmly, his hands up as Ian paced the small space of the room. 

"I can't." Ian sobbed, hands in his hair, trying to get a grip. "I feel it all, Mickey. All of it. The happiness just before the fear and the confusion. I feel it like it just happened."

He had no idea if he was making sense, but it was the best he had at the moment.

"You were gone!" Ian shouted at the top of his lungs, even when it wasn't anyone's fault. "You just left."

"Ian…"

Before Mickey could say more, Ian was already shaking his head. The tears kept coming. "I came back from the hospital and your house was empty. You were gone, just fucking gone and I didn't know what to do."

By this point, Mickey stopped trying to calm him down. It wouldn't work. Instead he just listened and hovered next to him, waiting for him to run out of steam. But he was also crying, silent, slow tears that Ian almost missed until the light above showed the streaks down his cheeks. 

"You were just gone." Ian said for the final time, that steam drifting away breath by breath. He released his hair and scrubbed both hands over his face, then took a deep, shuddering breath into his hands. "I don't know why this is happening."

Without prompt, Ian was suddenly being pulled into Mickey's arms. He couldn't fight it even if he wanted to, which he didn't, but he also didn't react. He was firm against Mickey's chest, warm, strong arms circled him, trapping his arms and hugged him. 

"It's okay." Mickey whispered into Ian's shoulder, not tall enough to rest his chin on it. He squeezed. "Just breathe first, okay?"

Ian breathed deeply until his lungs burned. He sucked back the tears and listened to the sound of Mickey's voice. He didn't sound sure of himself, he wasn't confident, but he was real, he was honest and he wasn't running for the hills. 

"Leaving shit like that, unresolved, it just leaves a hole." Mickey began and Ian could hear the tremble in his voice. "The emotions have nowhere to go, they can't come out, they just get stuck."

God, he was making so much sense. That's exactly what it felt like and those tears threatened to come back until warm hands moved soothingly up and down his back. 

"And now that we are together...it just spilled out again." 

Ian was able to move his arms to Mickey's back, not to search but to hold on like he was about to float away. He buried his face in Mickey's shirt and breathed. 

"I'm so fucking sorry it happened like that. That we just left. I didn't want to, you have to believe me." Mickey begged, his voice cracking. "I didn't even know we were leaving until it happened."

When Ian went to pull back, Mickey's arms gave him a little slack, but all five of his tentacles came out and wrapped around him. Two around his waist, one locking his hands together at the small of Mickey's back, another held onto the collar of his shirt and the last did what it did before, it stroked the side of his face in that sweet, loving way. 

They held him tightly, making sure he didn't move. It put him face to face with Mickey, him looking down just a little. Their noses touched, their eyes met and held, each glimmering with tears. 

In the movies, that would have been the moment they kissed for the first time. It fell into place and Ian was lying if he said he didn't want it, that he hoped Mickey did too. But that's not what all this was about. This was about more than anything sexual or physical. 

It was something he couldn't explain. 

"You're touching me." Ian whispered, remembering saying that exact same thing when they were kids. 

"I don't know why it happens." Mickey replied like Ian knew he would. They smiled, not intimidated by the close contact. "They just like you."

"They are you. That means you like me."

"Yeah, I kinda do." Mickey admitted and Ian followed blue eyes when they glanced down at his mouth. "You're not the only one feeling all that shit, Ian. I am too. I just don't know what to do with it."

The tentacle stroking his cheek wiped away a falling tear, then lazily wound around the back of his neck. It tightened and Ian followed when it pulled him down until their foreheads were resting together. 

"Crying didn't help. I wouldn't recommend it." Ian laughed and watched the hair that fell into Mickey's eyes shift. "I guess panicking isn't the best way to go."

"I think it has to happen before the other shit. I was panicking a little when you were talking in class about me. I didn't realize it was you at first, but it didn't take me long to realize it."

"As if the hair didn't give it away." 

Mickey grinned.

Ian tried to wiggle his hands free, but Mickey was having none of it. His tentacle tightened its grip. "I wouldn't have shared all of it. I just wanted a little insight."

Mickey nodded. "There wasn't much to share. Just the fact that for some reason I can't keep my hands or other parts to myself."

Heat sparked all over his body, like wildfire, but Ian chose to ignore it. "They were always better at saying what you couldn't."

"Yeah, they were." Mickey eyed his lips again before Ian was released. His hands unbound, his waist freed, that one tentacle around his neck let go with another swipe under his eye. "You were pretty good at saying it for me, though."

Although freed, Ian didn't move. His head remained pressed against Mickey's, his hands settling against his sides, just holding on. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"I'm glad we were wrong." 

The tension was there. The want was there, especially for him. But Mickey? Was he just being nice, or was it flirting or just too many emotions? Ian just didn't know. It was something. Powerful, consuming. 

"Maybe we should sit down." Mickey suggested, but didn't move a muscle.

Ian nodded and pushed his head against Mickey's once before he backed away and took a seat on the end of Mickey's bed, his back against the wall. Moments later, Mickey joined him, sitting just as he was, but with only an inch or so of space between them. 

How did they start? Who said what? When? There were so many questions running through his mind, creating that overwhelming feeling inside of him again. It just kept building. Until one of Mickey's hands landed on his wrist, not gripping it, just a gentle touch but it was enough, all that chatter stopped, his mind was silent once again. 

"You're thinking too hard." Mickey said after a moment. "I can just tell."

"Yeah, it's a curse." Ian laughed but it wasn't funny. He just needed an outlet and laughter was better than crying. "There's just so much I wanna say, so much I need to know. I don't know where to start."

"I do." Mickey looked away and Ian could feel the distance even when they were touching. "The shit I want to say, that I need to say the most, is thank you."

Ian narrowed his eyes. "For what?"

"For everything really. For taking a chance, for being my friend. For trying to help me that day." Mickey squeezed Ian's wrist. "I've never had someone fight for me like that. Or stand up to him, not even my own mother."

"You don't have to thank me for being your friend, Mickey. And for the rest, I honestly don't remember doing it. Like, I remember all of it, but I didn't have to think about it beforehand."

Mickey nodded.

"I didn't think about what would happen if I didn't move, only what could have happened if I did." Ian took a deep breath because his words were bleeding together again. Mickey squeezed. "And you really don't need to thank me for that because I failed. In the end I couldn't do anything."

"You did so much, Ian. So fucking much." Mickey turned until one leg was on the bed, bent at an angle so he could look at him. "I learned that there is no winning, not with that. There's just fighting, standing up for yourself, or someone else, like you did. You didn't lose, you changed my entire life."

Soft tears fell, maybe happy ones again. Maybe they were made of despair instead. 

"You changed my life too, Mickey. Not just then, but after." Ian finally turned his hand and Mickey's fell into his palm. They moved at the same time and linked, their fingers lacing together. "I couldn't stop thinking about what happened when that door closed on me. I have nightmares about it. Even now."

Beside him, Mickey was silent, staring down at their linked hands. 

"You don't have to tell me what happened. I can probably guess."

"And you'd be right." Mickey whispered. "I've never hurt like that before. He was a mean bastard but that time was different."

Seeing Mickey with a black eye had been rough. He couldn't imagine what happened when those doors closed that final time. He didn't want to, if he was being honest. The nightmares would probably get worse, his guilt would intensify. There was no doubt about it. 

This time, Ian squeezed his hand, hard and Mickey looked over. "And it wasn't because of you, it wasn't because you were my friend. Because I know that's what you're thinking."

Ian gave a sad smile. 

"It would have happened no matter what. That's what people like him do. He doesn't need a reason to do it."

"I know that, I do. But it doesn't change anything for me. I still think that if I'd have just left you alone, that maybe it wouldn't have happened."

Mickey released his hand and moved to kneel on the bed. Ian watched, curious, surprised. Especially when Mickey cupped his face, holding him like he was made of glass, and maybe, just maybe in that moment he was. 

"Ian, if you'd have left me alone, I'd have killed myself." Mickey whispered, looking into watery green eyes. "I could have taken a beating. I did it a hundred times, but I couldn't have taken being left alone in that place. Moving to Chicago, being trapped inside that house...it would have killed me."

Ian shut his eyes and cried, but Mickey refused to let his face go. "Mickey."

"Ian, look at me." Mickey gently shook his face a little until he could see his eyes. "You saved me that day. And all those after it. You gave me something I didn't have before. Hope and trust and friendship."

Shaky hands made their way to Mickey's arms, holding him as he was being held. 

"You were the best thing that ever happened to me. So, please. Don't ever think you made the wrong fucking choice to be my friend." 

Ian didn't know what happened after that. He was crying, Mickey was crying, they were holding each other like their lives were being uprooted again, torn up into pieces and scattered at their feet. At their own mercy to put those pieces back together again. 

His eyes closed for a moment, to let the words sink in, to let the built up tears fall into Mickey's palms. Then he felt the soft, wet touch of Mickey's lips on his. So soft that Ian thought it had been his imagination, or a dream. That maybe he'd fallen asleep again and all this had been a dream of all dreams. 

Then it was gone. His eyes opened and Mickey's nose was against his, he could feel his thicker bottom lip against his own, soft and slick. Then Mickey's eyes opened and Ian wasn't sure what he saw in them. 

"Ian, you're the reason I didn't give up."

Ian let out a shaky breath. "Fuck." 

The next kiss was all him. He's the one who tightened his grip on Mickey's arms and brought him the rest of the way. The kiss wasn't denied. It was answered willingly. Slow, just like the first one. Merely a brush of their lips, but something passed between them as it happened. Like they were breathing each other down. 

Ian pulled back after a single kiss, because for now, there was no need for more. "I don't want you to leave again."

Mickey smiled, his thumbs slowly rubbing under red eyes to wipe the tears away as they fell. "I just found you, Ian. There is no way I'm leaving."

Eventually they moved apart and sat side by side again. This time their bodies lined up from head to toe and Ian's head rested comfortably on Mickey's shoulder, Mickey's rested on top of his head. Their arms were entwined, their hands linked together tightly. They just sat there. They didn't talk, they didn't move aside from the occasional hand squeeze. 

Ian never knew he needed anything more than that, then he did in that moment. Not sex, not empty promises, not talking about all the ways it could have ended differently for both of them. He just needed this; comfort. A friend. A companion. Someone who knew what it felt like, inside. To know that kind of fear and panic and to know that you were probably a mess and still they wanted to be around you anyway.

Ian didn't know if he believed in soul mates. He didn't know if someone could be bound to another through time and space and all that fairytale stuff. A connection so deep, one formed so quickly, even when they'd only been together a handful of days. It didn't seem possible. But it had to be what it was because he had no other explanation for the utter peace and acceptance he felt. 

The only thing he did know was that he and Mickey were destined to be together, in one form or another, in one time or another. But together all the same.

**

They sat like that, pressed together holding hands, for what seemed like forever, when only an hour had passed. The need to move was gone, the need to stay and hold on to each other was strong, so strong that Ian didn't try to fight it. 

When they moved apart, Ian sat up, removing his head from that warm, comfortable place on Mickey's shoulder and looked directly into blue eyes. And looked and looked. He was drawn in, almost against his will, because before he thought about why or why not, his lips were pressed against Mickey's again. 

One kiss. Just like the last two times. 

Ian pulled away, then slid to the end of the bed and stretched, groaning a little when his shoulders popped. "You gonna be in trouble for ditching classes today?"

"Probably not." Mickey slid to the end of the bed as well and dug into his jeans for a pack of crumpled cigarettes. Ian tried not to watch when he put it between his lips. "I've been pretty good with my attendance this semester so I should be okay."

The wonderful smell of smoke filled the room. Ian took a deep breath, drawing it into his lungs. Mickey stood and cracked the window between the two twin beds. Ian watched him, all of him. From his gait, to how far his thighs split as he walked, to the way the cigarette bobbed from his lips. He watched all of it. 

"How about you?" 

Ian shrugged. "Probably. It's gonna suck to make up all the content I missed but an all nighter should even it out." 

"Pre-med, right?"

"Yeah, don't ask me why though." Ian chuckled a little. "It'll sound stupid when I say I just want to help people."

"Ian, that's not stupid." Mickey said without any hint of amusement in his voice. "It would be stupid to say you want it all for the money you'll make."

When he glanced back up at him, Mickey was leaning by the window, watching him. "Why are you doing it?"

"Same reason as you, I suppose." Mickey offered the cigarette and Ian nodded and took it from between his fingers. "I don't wanna just be a doctor though. I wanna work with kids, try and help them instead of just the adults."

Before the cigarette made it to his lips, Ian smiled. "Any particular reason?"

It was rhetorical, and they both smiled because of it. 

"I got a late start though. I couldn't decide where I wanted to go or what exactly I wanted to do."

Taking a few hits of the cigarette and letting it firmly invade his lungs before he blew it out, he handed it back, which meant he stood and it put them close again. "I get why you wanted to. But why here?"

Mickey stubbed the cigarette out on the window sill and tossed it out with a flick of his fingers. "Chicago is the only place I've ever been happy. And no, I'm not being cheesy, just honest."

His heart swelled and the need to recreate those days was strong. Like they could start over from that day on, playing video games and reading comics before a sleepover. In the morning, they'd sleep in, have some of Fiona's pancakes and spend the rest of the day watching shitty tv. It would all be better that way. 

"Where did you guys go after you left?" 

"We stayed in Chicago for a while, like an even shittier part then before, but that's only until he got the money he needed to move us somewhere else."

Ian lifted his eyes. "I really hope you're about to tell me a good story here. That maybe he died shortly after that and you spent the last ten years creating a new life with your mom and sister."

Mickey was silent. 

"Anything besides that and I'm not sure if I can handle it."

"I can lie." Mickey said simply but Ian could hear that underlying emotion. "I can say he died before we left Chicago. I can say we moved away to a nice house where we had enough food for three meals a day for three people. I can say we went to the best schools, I had all my milestone firsts, first drink, first smoke, first fuck."

Ian swallowed thickly, feeling bile creep up his throat. The more he swallowed the thicker it became. 

"I can say I graduated high school surrounded by my friend and family, that certain someone special who loved me. I can say I got a full ride to college but spent three years travelling the world before I decided to go."

"Stop." Ian croaked as a wet sound escaped his lips. He put one hand to his stomach, begging whatever he ate this morning to stay put. 

"I can say all that stuff and you could act like you believe me and we can go onto your story." 

Ian shook his head. "It would be a lie and I don't like those."

"Yeah, that makes two of us." Mickey sighed deeply. "The truth is hard to hear, Ian and if you really need to know I'll tell you. But I'd rather spend our time talking about good shit. About school now and us meeting again."

Before he realized it, Ian was halfway across the room, standing a few inches away from him. That need to vomit subsided for a moment and he reached out and squeezed Mickey's shoulder. 

"I feel like it won't be fair if I don't know the entire story. Like I took life for granted." Ian couldn't hold his eyes and blinked, looking away. "It's up to you. If you want to tell me now, you know I want to hear it."

"And if I don't want to talk about it?"

"Then maybe we can wait for another day." 

"I like that option better." 

When he didn't look up, Mickey did it for him. He gripped the end of his chin and tilted his head up and their eyes met. Ian knew his looked sad, and even when he tried to smile, it didn't seem to help any. And Mickey knew. 

Mickey sighed. "Ian, that shit is in the past."

"It doesn't feel like it." 

"Well, it is." Mickey kept ahold of his chin, shaking it a little. "Okay, how about the short version for now? That way you get an idea and then we can put the details on hold for another time."

Without much of a choice, because either they'd spend the next few hours combing through Mickey's abusive childhood and likely ruin the entire mood of the day, or they wouldn't talk and Ian would be in his current funk, feeling guilty because at nine years old he couldn't help someone who needed him, Ian nodded, agreeing to his terms. 

Mickey released Ian's chin and moved his hands to the bottom of Ian's shirt. Still holding. "It was hell for awhile. We kept moving, he kept doing what he did, but then he died."

Ian's mouth dropped open a little. 

"My mom killed him." Mickey said and offered no explanation as to why. That would come later. "We moved away, things got better. We lived a life that we were supposed to."

The tears were back, possibly happy ones again. Mickey had a rough life, but it sounded like he got the happy ending he needed, the one he deserved. 

"I'm glad you're here." Ian said honestly. "However you got here, I'm glad you are."

"I am too." Mickey tugged him closer, their heads bumping a little. Ian could see the swirl of green in his eyes, the flecks of brown twisted within the blue. "Now, can we please talk about something else."

Ian nodded. "Okay, but what?"

"How about you kissing me."

He was tongue-tied for a moment, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. Mickey just smiled. A little shy still but under was confidence too. When he got it together, Mickey was already tonguing the corner of his mouth. 

"You kissed me." Ian said back, in an accusatory tone. "You answer first."

Mickey chuckled. "I kissed you because I wanted to. Your turn."

Huffing at that shitty answer, Ian shook his head. "I kissed you because you kissed me." Dark eyebrows rose, waiting for more. "And because I wanted to."

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Mickey eyed his lips and Ian did the same. "Now, was that cuz we were just deep in emotions and shit or something else?"

They were still head to head, literally. Ian could feel Mickey's breath against his lips, he could feel the heat of his body. At the moment, Mickey wasn't shy or withdrawn, he was sure of himself, confident in a way Ian was growing to like. Mickey was holding his own. 

"I think the emotions part made you kiss me in the first place," he waited for Mickey to confirm with a slight nod. "But the last two were because I wanted to kiss you."

"And do you now?" 

Ian glanced at his lips again. They were already slick, pink, luscious looking. "Yeah, I do."

One tentacle slithered up Ian's chest, wound around his neck in that same loose grip and tugged him down, hinting at what Mickey wanted. Ian didn't fight it. His head tilted a little, ready to interlock their lips, his hands somehow found their way to Mickey's sides. 

"If this is just some exploratory thing with your sexuality, I get it." Ian breathed deeply, eyes back on Mickey's. "But I'm gay, just so you know. I already know what I want."

Ian had only seen the grin that appeared on Mickey's face once before, when they played video games and Mickey kicked his ass. It was the same then as it was now. It had his stomach in knots.

"I think we have a few things to explore, yeah. But I already know what I want too."

Now Ian smiled. "And what's that exactly?"

The tentacle tightened until their noses booped together. "I'll show you."

Ian was the one to connect their lips. He leaned in when Mickey didn't. Even with it being as soft and slow as it was before, this time was different. Ian could feel it. Mickey's bottom lip ended up between his two, like he was paying extra attention to it on purpose. Mickey seemed to like it by the low sounding groan he gave in response. That sound sent a wave of heat over his body, pooling in his gut. 

Like before, Ian pulled back but instead of breaking apart for good, Mickey was pulling him in again. This time, he felt the gentle, and exploratory feel of his tongue, just a swipe across his lips before it was gone.

Before the kiss could deepen, Ian felt the unmistakable feeling of one of Mickey's tentacles. This time, it was sliding up the inside of his shirt, roaming high up to his neck before it gripped the collar and pulled. Ian ended the kiss with a sound of his own, his hands tightening on Mickey's sides. 

"Mickey." Ian said in a breathless whisper and looked down. The tentacle was pulling at his shirt, like it wanted it off.

"I can't help it with you." Mickey explained and fought tooth and nail until it slid out from Ian's shirt and back into his own. "They want you."

Ian smiled. "You want me."

Looking at his lips, Mickey nodded. "Yeah, I do. But I can keep my hands to myself. With those, I have to try harder, I have to fight it."

They were breathing hotly together. Talking in hushed whispers, stealing glances at each others lips. The tension was a living, breathing thing. Standing between them, wanting them to act on impulse and throw all thought out the window. And the longer they stayed close together like that, the more it would happen. 

"I didn't say you needed to keep them to yourself," Ian said clearly and one slipped right back out and tugged on the end of his shirt. "I wanted to see them before and I do now."

"Before was different, it wasn't like this." Mickey turned his head, pushing against Ian's until he pushed back. "Then it was friendly, now it's not."

"Trust me, this is friendly too." Ian moved one hand off Mickey's side and looked down as he slowly trailed a finger down the top of the tentacle closest to him. Mickey gave a breathy groan, his eyes fluttering. "I felt it then too, our connection, the tension. I just didn't know what it meant."

Mickey licked his lips again before he spoke and they were close enough for Ian to feel it on his lower lip. "You'd better stop. That's just like stroking other parts of me and I can't…"

While his eyes fluttered yet again, as if he had to fight to keep them open, Ian stroked the same spot, just the underside this time and Mickey's hand shot up and circled his wrist, stopping him. 

"I literally can't fucking control them around you, so if you don't wanna fuck right now, you better stop." 

Pure excitement rolled through his body like a stampede of elephants. Trampling everything resembling doubt and hesitation until there was nothing left but the dire need to know someone in that context. To rip the boundaries between them and take that last step, even if that meant skipping a hundred steps before that. 

They weren't ready. He wasn't, Mickey wasn't, their newly found but not forgotten friendship wasn't ready for it. But it would be so easy to give in. 

"I just want to touch them, Mickey." Ian said and knew it probably sounded as desperate as he felt. "I wanna see them and touch them, and learn and watch. I still want that."

Mickey grit his teeth when a tremble worked its way off his body in waves. 

"But it doesn't have to be sexual." Ian continued quickly. "I just want to see."

"I've never let anyone see them. No one." Mickey said and Ian instantly caught his meaning. That no one, sexual or otherwise had seen them or touched them. Ian didn't know why he liked that so much. "Just my mom a handful of times as a kid and you."

Now it was Ian's turn to grit his teeth and listen. Even when his whole body was screaming at the top of his lungs. 

"You're the only one I've ever felt comfortable doing that with. Now isn't any different but if it's not going to turn into sex, or us getting off, I'm gonna need a fucking drink."

A surprise burst of laughter erupted and Mickey's smile grew. "I guess that's fair. Might help us both calm our asses down a little."

"We need food too." Mickey said just as his stomach grumbled. "I hate being hungry."

His smile was a little sad and proud at the same time. "Okay, how about you get the booze...since I'm still underage." Mickey grinned. "I'll get the food and we can meet back here?"

"Sounds like a plan."

With one last shared smile, Ian turned for the door but didn't get far. That tentacle still had the bottom of his shirt and pulled him back with such strength that he barrelled into Mickey's chest with a low grunt. 

"I forget something?" Ian asked, eyes back on his lips. He just couldn't help it. One kiss and he was ruined.

"No, but I want a kiss." 

"Oh, really?"

Mickey nodded and pulled him down even further. "It's okay to kiss your friends, right?"

"Right." Ian answered automatically, cupping one side of his face, his thumb stroking just under his eye. "But just a little or we won't make it outta here."

Their lips were touching and still Mickey smiled. "Shut up and kiss me."

Right away Ian could tell just a simple kiss was out. Way before their lips pressed together, his tongue was already teasing the seam of Mickey's lip. Mickey gave a welcomed groan, his hands sliding behind his neck and Ian took it as an invitation and licked into him, stroking the inside of his mouth, his tongue, with his own until their lips finally connected. 

It was soft and wet and just a little bit desperate. Going way past more than a simple kiss. Mickey's tongue was eagerly sliding against his own between gut wrenching nips of teeth against lips and sucking on his tongue. Ian was losing it. 

Which is why he pulled back, hating himself but grateful for his self control at the same time. Mickey chased after his lips for another kiss or two, Ian traced his slick lips and couldn't control his brain from taking a little detour into what could happen if he just kissed him again and let it all happen. 

"Go on. Before I don't let you leave." Mickey released his shirt. 

Ian backed up, eyes still connected with Mickey's. Mentally he was still against him, still kissing him. "Meet you back here."

"You'd better."

**

Half an hour later, Ian was climbing the stairs to Mickey's door room with two large pizzas in his arms. It took him a bit longer than he realized because he's been kissing Mickey instead of calling ahead and ordering. It would have saved him ten minutes since the pizza joint was only a five minute walk from campus but that meant no kissing.

He was okay with the extra wait time. 

On the walk there, he went through everything that happened since class this morning. Them meeting again, having his entire world being turned upside down, then arranged piece by jagged piece until Mickey was at the center. 

Now they were kissing, something Ian only thought about doing a few times over the course of the ten years they spent apart and it was always in a distant dream. Some he couldn't even remember. Now it was a reality. Them touching, kissing, Mickey willingly coming to him without any hesitation. 

There was a reason he was a virgin. Not just because he'd been busy planning for a future that didn't include working the grill at McDonald's, but because whenever he had gone out, those few and far between times when he needed company, but because everyone he'd wanted...or those he thought he wanted, just weren't. They weren't Mickey. 

Ian had to play nice the rest of the "date" so he could leave without being an asshole. Mickey had been a ghost in his life, both physically and metaphorically. Almost haunting him in a way, reminding him that he had something he wanted, even when he'd been too young to realize it, but that presence lingered around him like a cloud. 

Now Mickey was real and he needed to play catch up. His body certainly was.

Ian waited at the door for a few minutes before Mickey was climbing the stairs, a case of beer and a bottle wrapped in a paper bag, and joined him at the door. 

"Been waiting long?" 

Ian shook his head and Mickey unlocked the door for them. He followed him in and shut it behind them. "Few minutes. Surprised I beat you back though."

Mickey put a few cans of beer inside the mini fridge and Ian refused to watch the way his ass kind of pushed out a little. He busied himself by setting the pizza on the empty bed, grabbed the paper plates on top and opened both lids. 

"Liquor store down the road was closed." Mickey stood and shut the door. He snatched two plastic cups off the top of the fridge, grabbed the bottle of tequila and took a seat on his own bed. Across from Ian. "Next one is like three blocks in the other direction."

"Whatcha want?" Ian asked, pointing back and forth between boxes. "Original pepperoni or supreme?"

"Gimme some of each." Mickey replied and twisted the cap off the bottle and poured a little into both cups. "Here."

Ian took the offered cup, exchanging it for Mickey's plate. He sat down on the other bed, his plate on top of the boxes and downed the tequila in the cup with one swig. He put a closed fist to his mouth, wincing as he swallowed. 

"Damn, take it easy." 

Mickey did the same thing he did, drank it all in one go and winked at him. Ian shook his head and held out his cup for more, but set it aside and grabbed his plate. Mickey did as well, leaning back against the wall just as he did, watching him. 

They ate in comfortable silence, but never took their eyes off each other. Ian refilled their plates while they took another shot and Mickey refilled their cups, keeping it going. It was strong, as tequila was supposed to be, but they were taking it slow and eating while they were at it, it could prevent a hangover but maybe not.

When they were done, having downed five slices a piece, they dumped their plates in the trash can by the window. Ian grabbed the bottle Mickey offered, filling up the bottom of their cups for the third time while Mickey lit a cigarette and stood by the window again. 

Ian wasn't sure what to say, much less talk about. They already covered quite a bit of the heavy stuff of their past, they talked a little about their future and what they were going to school for. But what were they supposed to talk about now, at that moment? 

What they talked about hung heavy in the air. Ian wanted to see him, Mickey said he needed a drink first, a drink was had... and now? How did they move to the next step? Ian didn't want to seem greedy or impatient because he wasn't. Just eager. 

In the end, thankfully, since his mind was too full of what ifs, Mickey was the one to speak up. Ian could tell he was just as nervous, even after that drink, even after many.

"You said it wouldn't be sexual." Mickey stated a fact and didn't wait for Ian to confirm. "Any idea how to make that work?"

The deep breath he let out was answer enough. He didn't know, but he would figure out a way. "Not exactly, but I can stop if it's too much, or we don't have to do it at all."

There he was, always so accommodating. "I want to."

Ian slid to the end of the bed and set his cup down. He stood, trying not to seem predatory as he walked to Mickey, standing a few inches in front of him, hovering. Mickey met his eyes, looking sure of himself, but nervous at the same time. Like he was. 

"I think aside from me touching them, we shouldn't touch anywhere else." Ian said and forced himself not to reach out and touch him, or kiss him. "It'll cross our wires and get us into the wrong headspace."

Mickey flicked the cigarette out the window, downed the rest of his drink and nodded his agreement. "The second my shirt comes off, they'll be all over you."

Ian bit back his oncoming groan. "Are you gonna control them, or let 'em go?"

"Depends on how they touch you." Mickey said simply. "What are you wanting to get from doing this?"

"Since we were kids, I just wanted to see them. To feel them. I don't know, I guess just because I was, I am curious. They are apart of you and I think they're fucking amazing."

Ian noted the blush creeping up Mickey's cheeks that had nothing to do with the alcohol. 

"Just as long as you're not hoping to see a big ass octopus on my back."

"That would be very interesting, but no." Ian chuckled lightly and let his hands drop down to tug at Mickey's shirt. "You want me to do it, or do you want to?"

Mickey swallowed. "I'd better. Headspace, ya know?"

"I do." Ian dropped his hands and took a step back, giving him room so he didn't feel smothered. Instead, he took a seat on the edge of the bed, one leg bent at the knee while the other stayed on the floor. "I can't believe this is happening."

Mickey gave a nervous laugh. "I can, I just don't know what to expect from your reaction. My mom wanting to see them is different than this."

"It is, but it's just me."

"That's what makes me nervous."

Ian felt silent as soon as Mickey shared to shimmy the shirt up. Even though this entire thing was about seeing Mickey's back, Ian realized he'd get to see all of it. All of him. Starting with his hips, then his waist...which was way more narrow than Ian would have imagined. Almost in that femininely way. His sides were slightly curved, his abdominal muscles small, but tight and well defined. His chest was sculpted, but not from any gym, just natural exercise, his nipples were soft and pink and Ian wanted to run his thumbs against them. 

With a dip of Mickey's head, the shirt was off and Ian had to take a deep, calming breath. His skin was tinted pink at his chest and spread up to his neck, then his face from how hard he was blushing. He fidgeted with the shirt, pushing it back and forth between his hands, then ringing it like it was full of water. 

He was very nervous. 

"You wanna stand?" Mickey asked, not looking at him.

"Due to our height difference, I'd say no." Ian saw Mickey's eyes for a moment before they started away. If they stood, Mickey's ass would be perfectly level with his hips and that couldn't happen. "Sitting might be easier."

"Alright." Mickey kept the shirt in his hands, then walked to the bed and as he turned, he sat until he was facing away from Ian, sitting right in front of him.

Before Ian could even see what he was looking at, all five of Mickey's tentacles were on him. Gripping at his shirt, wrapping around his waist, one on his wrist...and he noticed it was the same one it always was. One even wound around his upper thigh, forcing him to lift his leg until it got situated tightly around it. 

"So much for controlling them." Ian laughed a little as unnatural excitement surged inside of him. "Damn."

"So far they're fine, just holding on like they always do with you." 

Ian looked down at all of them, eagerly noticing how they all were the same color as Mickey's skin, as each other. Different lengths, but not by much, half an inch or so between their sizes. Their little suction cups stuck to his skin and each tentacle had two or three right at the tip. 

They weren't just protruding from various parts of Mickey's back like Ian assumed, each in a different spot. They were all connected by a small lump, or Node, as it was called in anatomy class. A central point where they were all connected. It was small, and in the center of his back and all the tentacles sprouted from it. 

It might sound gross, or weird to look at, but not to Ian. He liked it better than thinking they were located all across his back. He had full view of his shoulders, pale and dotted here and there with light freckles, the length of his back was smooth, perfect and soft. He even had those sexy little dimples in his lower back. 

He was beautiful. More so than Ian ever imagined, and he spent a great deal of his life thinking about what it might look like. 

"Ian?" Mickey called out quietly. 

"Hmm?" Ian answered, distracted. His hands moved up from where they'd been resting on his thighs and stopped just before he touched him. "You're shaking."

"I'm nervous. You haven't said anything."

Mickey misconstrued his silence for what... disgust, maybe? Even when that was the furthest thing from the truth but if he didn't say it out loud, how would Mickey know?

"I'm sorry, I was just looking at all of you." Ian said as his eyes made the pass from his shoulders to his lower back yet again. "I thought they'd just be all over the place."

Mickey stayed silent. 

"Can I touch you?"

"Where?"

"All over." Ian said and tested it by laying his hand, palm down against Mickey's side like before, only skin on skin. "Hmm?"

Mickey gave a quiet "yes" and Ian laid his hand on his other side, his thumbs like they were reaching in towards his spine. He didn't go right for the Node, or the tentacles themselves, but higher up. He slid his hands up Mickey's sides to the upper part of his back, to his shoulders. 

It was his idea not to touch anywhere else aside from him exploring Mickey's tentacles. But they seemed to want to touch him and he knew for a fact that if he tried to touch them, what happened before would happen again. He wasn't sure how much of those little gasping sounds he could take before he broke.

It wasn't an overly intimate touch, yet Mickey let out the same sound he had when Ian touched the tentacle itself. Not a sound of protest, but one of need. Of surprise. Ian didn't stop, he ran his hands over smooth skin, almost like he was giving a back massage, mostly to help him relax. 

"God, that feels good." Mickey admitted with another deep sounding moan. 

Ian smiled. "I'm glad it does. Does it ever make your back hurt to use them?"

"Sometimes. It's not any different than your arms or legs getting tired, just depends on how you use them."

Sliding his hands down either side of Mickey's spine, Ian noticed his tentacles gripping him tighter. It wasn't painful, but reassuring. He slid them down to his lower back, then added a little pressure and the sound Mickey let out was nowhere near sexual. 

"Fuck, fuck." 

Ian chuckled and kept it up, kneading his fingers against the tightly wound muscles. "You hold a lot of tension in your lower back."

"Probably just bad posture." Mickey joked, chuckling until it turned into another sound that had the hairs on Ian's neck standing on end. "Plus keeping them in makes my back hurt."

"Told you they didn't like to be cooped up."

Mickey lifted his hand and flipped him off. "I let them out more now than I ever did. Having no roommate helps, I can just have my shirt off whenever I want."

Ian moved up, working the tense muscles just below the Node. "Gotta be hard to be alone all the time. I meant, my roommate kinda sucks but…"

Mickey leaned back, into his touch. "It gets lonely, yeah. But I'd rather be alone then be around someone who has a problem with me."

Ian leaned forward, pressing his chest against Mickey's back so he could have better across to his ear. He bumped his nose against the back of it. "There is nothing wrong with you, Mickey. Absolutely nothing."

"Ian."

"No," he interrupted quickly. His lips were tickling the little hairs on Mickey's ear, prompting those soft, little puffs of air from his lips. "You're perfect just like this. I don't think I'd want you any other way then how you are."

"But if I was normal…" Mickey abandoned his train of thought and gave a deep sigh. "Maybe I wouldn't have been alone for so long."

"Being "normal," whatever the hell that means, doesn't make life any easier. I don't have anything remarkable about me and I was just as alone as you were." Ian stopped massaging his back and once again put his hands on Mickey's sides before they slid around to his stomach, holding him, pressing tightly against his back. "I like you, Mickey. With or without them."

With a heavy sigh, Mickey leaned back against his chest fully. Ian could feel his muscles give, the tentacles tightening around him, holding him back. "There aren't enough "thank yous" in the world."

"Thank me by being my friend again." Ian said but his body betrayed his words when he pressed his lips to the lobe of Mickey's ear. A soft kiss, but a kiss nonetheless. "Thank me by not leaving."

"I'm not leaving." Mickey said in a breathless whisper and turned his head until Ian's next kiss, one meant for his ear, landed softly on his jaw instead. "And I've always been your friend, Ian. Then and now."

Feeling whole in a way he hadn't before, Ian breathed deeply, inhaling that smell. Feeling the warmth of his skin, wishing his shirt was off too. He gently placed another kiss along his jaw, then another right after that. Mickey kept turning his head, allowing him to kiss all the way to the corner of his mouth before he stopped.

"I don't know what's happening." Ian said instead of kissing his mouth. Even when he really, really wanted to. His hands kept linked tightly around Mickey's stomach, his fingers gently moving across soft skin. "This is more than friends."

"It feels like it is." Mickey released his shirt and set his shaking hands down on top of Ian's. "And I have no fucking idea what to do about it."

With a gentle shift, Ian's leg widened and at the same time, he pulled Mickey back until he was sitting right between his legs. They let out the same gasping sounds, their hands linking together, tightening. 

There was a strong, almost unbreakable connection between them. Undeniable, but still so new. It had all happened so fast, it was still happening fast and neither of them knew what to do, or if they should stop. But Ian didn't want to ruin it all by moving too fast and what they were doing, was too fast. 

"Whatever is happening, I want it." Ian said into his ear, moving away from his mouth and the temptation to take it. He didn't kiss on him, or suck on his earlobe like he wanted. "It's gotta be slow, Mickey."

Mickey nodded, turning a little more until their eyes met. "I want it too, and slow is a good idea. But how slow?"

Ian chuckled a little. Mickey sounded eager, just like he did. 

"Slow as in this exploration shit is over?"

"Do you want it to be?"

"No," Mickey answered quickly and looked away. "I like it."

Ian gave a little hum into his ear. "I like it too. Just tell me when it's time to stop, okay?"

When Mickey nodded, Ian did what he wanted and sucked on his earlobe. Just for a moment, long enough for his tongue to stroke over it half a dozen times, then moved to his neck. He kissed over his thrumming pulse, then to the back of his neck, between his shoulder blades, creating a wake of goosebumps against his skin. 

Mickey was breathing quickly, shallow puffs of air that matched his own. Ian would breathe from his nose and watch his skin prickle before he moved again. His hands slid away from Mickey's, back over his sides, then up his back until finally his thumbs brushed across the Node, just a light touch. 

"Fuck." Mickey cursed, his entire back spasming. 

Meanwhile, the tentacles started to move on their own. Not just tightening this time, but moving. The one on his thigh moved up until Ian felt it rub against his groin. He swallowed his groan and focused on the one around his waist, trying to pop the button on his jeans. One tangled in his hair, pulling like a lover might, gripping then releasing, over and over again. But it was the one that moved to his neck that forced that hidden groan to emerge, deep and desperate sounding. The little suction cups were on his skin, sucking at his neck, teasing just below his ear. Ian didn't even know that was one of his spots until that moment, but he knew it would always be now. 

"Mickey." Ian whined and his hips shifted on their own, rubbing the hardness in his jeans against the edge of Mickey's ass. "You might need to call 'em off."

Although dazed, Mickey centered his body until that control he kept close to his chest, spread outward to all parts of his body. The tentacles stopped, releasing before they pulled back altogether. But it was too late, the damage was already done and Ian was fully hard. 

"We should probably stop." Ian said but knew Mickey could tell he had to force those words out. 

"Yeah, I know."

Neither of them moved away for a few long, tense moments until Ian gave one last kiss to the center of his back, then slid his hands away and moved back on the bed until his groin was no longer touching Mickey's ass. His entire body was on fire, primed to go, sweaty, hard, shaking. He couldn't control the fast beat of his heart or the fact that the same beat was pulsing through his cock. 

"Sorry." Mickey said after a moment. He slid his shirt back on and turned, facing him but not looking him in the eye. "They're fucking impossible to control around you."

Ian smiled, far from calm and collected, but happy. "This sounds weird but I kinda like that."

Mickey glanced over. "Like what?"

"You not being able to control them, or at least making it harder to control." Ian twisted his wrist, missing the feeling of one around it. "I told you it sounded weird."

"Half the time I don't realize I'm not in control. At least around you. Normally I have to try my hardest to control them, to make sure they don't just slip out in class, or out in public."

Ian held his breath. 

"It happened once when I was in the bookstore. I was searching for the school textbooks I needed and I wasn't focusing and one just slipped out and found the book I needed for me."

Although it sounded helpful, Ian knew it wasn't. 

"Everyone around me saw it and they just froze." Mickey gave a rueful smile. "It got so quiet I swear I could hear crickets chirping all around. They just kept staring, afraid if they moved that I'd like, I don't know, attack them? Because that makes sense."

Sarcasm. 

"I was so embarrassed I didn't even get the book I needed. I just dropped it and hauled ass outta there. Haven't been back since."

"I'm sorry."

Mickey smiled. "I make sure to control them at all times now, especially in public. But with you...it just doesn't work. I get this buzz, like I stuck a fork in a toaster and whatever happens, happens."

Although across the bed, Ian held his hand out, palm up, like he was waiting for Mickey's hand to link with his own, only it was a tentacle instead. It slipped out and wound around Ian's palm, holding it. He closed his hand, returning the embrace and when he looked up, Mickey was staring at it. 

"I feel safe enough to let my guard down with you. So, it just happens and shit gets a little personal."

"Just so you know, I really don't mind. Like, please, don't try and control it." Ian tickled the side of the tentacle with his pinkie until it squeezed. "Them touching me is reassuring somehow. It reminds me of when we were kids and those good memories come back all at once and I just love it."

Mickey gave a grateful smile. "If it's ever too much…"

"It never will be." Ian declared without a doubt. But then he quirked a playful smile and Mickey narrowed in on it. "But that one was going for my jeans."

"It's just where my mind was at." Mickey mumbled, blushing. 

Ian's mouth dropped open a little before he grinned. "Your mind was headed towards my jeans?"

"Oh, fuck you." Mickey lightly kicked at him as he laughed. "I was caught in the moment of all that shit and the next step would be taking off clothes and it just happened."

"I'll take your word for it." Ian said clearly, his eyes flirting with Mickey's. "I've never actually gone that far before."

Now it was Mickey's turn for his mouth to drop open a little in surprise and Ian took over blushing like a girl. Being a virgin was one thing, but openly talking about it was another. He was embarrassed, and without a reasonable explanation as to why he hadn't had sex yet. 

Within seconds, Mickey got his surprised looks under control. "You're a virgin, seriously?"

Biting his bottom lip, Ian nodded. 

"Okay, I get why I am. I have my own personal bodily issues. But you? How's that even possible?" 

With less confidence than he had, Ian did his best to explain, even when he didn't really know himself. "I was really focused on school. A few years after you left, my parents split, left us all in my sister's care. But she was just a kid too. We didn't have any money for college so I did my best to make it easier."

"I guess that makes sense."

Ian smiled. "I studied my ass off instead of joining my big brother at parties. Went to summer school for extra credit in case something along the way went wrong, I had a back up plan. And it paid off, got into college on a full academic scholarship."

"I get that, trust me, I get it." Mickey really did get it. "But puberty was a fucking bitch, like I almost didn't make it. But I didn't really have a choice. "

"Yes, it was a bitch." Ian admitted with a tense chuckle. "Especially when you're not sure what you're into, which I had no idea for awhile. I just kinda drifted between girls and guys, not literally of course, but trying to find out what I liked."

"And it was guys, just guys?"

Ian nodded. "Girls did nothing for me. Not even a hormonal kid going through that shit. It was just guys and the need was there, but I kinda had a feeling that if I gave in once, just once to figure out what all the fuss was, that maybe I'd end up not wanting to do the college thing."

"Why, because of sex?"

"Not just sex, but all of it. You know, a taste of normal, letting go and being a kid, forgetting all about the consequences." Ian rubbed his other hand down the back of his neck, then squeezed the tense muscle. "I just thought it would be easier to just stick with porn and stay with the plan I had."

Mickey blew out a deep breath. "So, you've done nothing, like at all?"

"I wouldn't say nothing," Ian said after a moment. "There were a few months between that last summer and the beginning of the fall semester where I tried to do it. I didn't have any obligations to keep denying myself. I made it into college so that wasn't at stake anymore."

When he paused, Mickey was sitting up, legs crossed like it was story time during grade school. Totally entranced by whatever he might say, even when he didn't have much to say. 

"I dabbled a bit." Ian shifted on the bed, remembering those few times where something could have happened but didn't. "I met a few guys, tried to get to the sex stuff but it didn't happen."

"Why not?"

"I didn't feel right, maybe?" Ian posed it as a question to himself, still unsure. "The most that happened was kissing, over the clothes touching, you know, juvenile shit, but it just didn't give me that same feeling."

Blue eyes met his and Ian had to swallow past that lump in his throat when Mickey asked, because of course he did. "What feeling?"

Exposing himself entirely, showing the most vulnerable parts of himself, Ian answered with nothing but brutal honesty. "The same feeling I had with you."

A sharp inhale was Mickey's only reply and Ian wondered if that was a good thing or not, and probably should have asked but he couldn't stop talking. 

"I didn't know what that feeling was then. Not the sexual part of it anyway, but that intense need to be near you. The desire to be friends, the connection. I know you felt it."

Mickey nodded. "I did."

"Of course when I was with that someone it was sexual, but I didn't have that feeling. There was no spark, no heat, just nothing." Ian looked down when those little suction cups now attached to the inside of his wrist, pulsing slowly, like he was receiving a hickey. "I searched for it and searched for it and waited to feel something besides just the need to get off but it just wasn't there."

Mickey rubbed his face with a shaky hand and Ian noticed another one of his tentacles was moving under his shirt by his shoulders, like it was easing the tension in his back, or trying to keep him calm. Ian wondered if it was working or not. 

"Maybe it was just the guy." Mickey suggested.

"It wasn't because there was more than one." Ian admitted without shame. "It never went past kissing because there was nothing there, Mickey. How is it possible that what I felt with you, which wasn't sexual at all, wasn't there at all when it was sexual with them? I didn't want to be with them, I didn't enjoy having their hands on me, or their lips on mine, or on my neck. I didn't even like what they said to me."

It was deep, so deep that Ian thought maybe it was too much. But it just kept coming out because HE needed to know what it was. 

"For me there has to be a connection. A deep connection it seems." Ian settled back against the wall, trying to relax his thrumming body, alive with nervous energy. "And it wasn't there with anyone, so aside from making out and wandering hands, I have no idea how any of that shit works."

"I have no idea what to say to that." Mickey said after a few deep breaths before he said the rest. "Except that I know what you felt then. The connection. And I was older so there was the sexual connection too, even when I had no idea what to do about it."

Now Ian was focused on him and his side. Entranced like Mickey had been. 

"I knew what sex was, straight sex anyway. My dad always left movies around or magazines and whenever I jacked someone's phone, I'd google it and...yeah, so I knew." Mickey blushed and covered his face entirely. "But it doesn't tell you what it would feel like or what to do about it when you got that feeling."

Ian knew when Mickey got that feeling. He remembered so clearly because he didn't know what to do about it either. 

"It happened with you a few times, not that you'd have known, but I didn't know what to do, so I did nothing. I didn't think about it or do anything to prolong that feeling. I just ignored it."

Before Mickey could continue, because it seemed like they were taking turns baring their virgin souls to each other and couldn't stop even if they wanted to, Ian stroked the side of Mickey's tentacle until wide blue eyes met his from behind the hands covering his face. 

"I knew when it happened. At least one time." Ian sat up and slowly moved up the bed to sit next to him. He hated the distance and needed to be close to him. "The first time I touched one of them, you gave that low, gasping sound."

"Good fucking lord." Mickey covered his face again, groaning into his hands. 

Ian smiled fondly at Mickey's embarrassment over something that happened a lifetime ago. Then he lightly peeled the tentacles suction cups off his wrist to reveal two dark purple circles. Hickies. "Then you did it again, that same sound, so quiet but I had goosebumps up my arms and I felt my cheeks heat."

"Ian," Mickey whined, begging for mercy.

"That's when I noticed you pulled your jacket over your hips and told me to stop because it felt weird." Ian finished softly, not wanting to make light of the situation. "It took me awhile to figure out what that meant. I was your age when I found out because I felt certain things then too and did nothing, but it was hard to know if that happened because of me personally or because that was just the age that we start to realize our bodies."

Mickey dropped his hands, showing Ian his red, embarrassed face. "It was you because I've never felt that with anyone else before. I never wanted anyone else."

"But you never let anyone else in. How do you know it was me?" Ian asked, emotion noticeable in his voice again. "Maybe you would have felt it with someone else if you'd had let them get close."

Suddenly Mickey was up on his knees, holding his face, nearly in his lap and Ian was so surprised he couldn't move. The only thing he could do was look into scared blue eyes and accept that maybe his looked just as afraid and that it was okay. 

"If someone had accepted me the way you did, I would have been with them in a heartbeat." Mickey said bluntly. "The need to touch and taste and explore and to just fucking feel was so intense, Ian. I was out of my motherfucking mind, but no one wanted me."

Ian opened his mouth to reply, but Mickey put his thumb against his lips, stopping him.

"I had a few people who were interested in me. They liked the way I looked and came onto me and even when I said no, they were persistent. And it had all those feelings and hormones going crazy because I fucking want it."

Ian nodded, panting heavily. It was so intense, he didn't know what to do. 

Mickey continued rapidly, talking so fast that Ian had to replay the words in his mind to make sure he heard it right. This was baring of souls, a chance to open up and spill it all out and Mickey was using it to his advantage.

"The feeling you mentioned, the connection wasn't there but at that point, I didn't care. I just wanted someone to touch me, someone to be interested. It didn't take them long to realize I wasn't like everyone else. We didn't touch, we didn't get familiar, but that's when I was learning to control them and I just couldn't and they, he, them, whoever the fuck it was, found out and that was the end of it."

"Mickey." Ian finally breathed out and it came out as shaky as his body was, he was trembling, as was Mickey. He felt the need to apologize because Mickey was worked up over something he said, because he questioned him. 

"Don't say sorry, Ian. That's not what I want from you. I just wanted you to know that yes, I've had a need to be touched before, more than once but only you gave me that feeling, only you wanted me as I am."

Ian stopped with the shocked mannequin routine and his hands moved on their own to Mickey's sides, helping him balance. Their thighs interlocked, one of Mickey's was between both of his which put them at a compromised angle and Ian didn't know what was wrong with that, or if there was anything wrong with it. 

"I still want you." Ian said, his eyes making another pass at Mickey's lips. "I want all that stuff we did when we were little. I want that feeling again."

Mickey stroked one side of Ian's face with the backs of his knuckles, soothing strokes. "And the other stuff?"

"I want all that stuff too." Ian answered without hesitating because if he did, if he wasn't certain, Mickey would know and that would be the end of it. "I just want you."

Their heads pressed together softly and each let out a deep, much needed breath. One of relief, of acceptance, of understanding. They got each other one hundred percent. Even after all those years apart, after all the struggle, they just knew.

When Mickey spoke, Ian had never heard his voice so soft before. "I'm gonna kiss you but that's it. That's gotta be the end of it for now."

Ian fisted the material of Mickey's shirt, already pulling him closer. "I'm good with that."

"Good."

Mickey kissed him this time. Soft and sweet, delicately. Their lips barely pressed together for a few seconds, then Mickey was pulling back to look into what Ian knew were lust blown eyes, then kissed him again.

They found a rhythm, one that worked for both of them. One that had Ian giving that low moan against his lips as he let Mickey do anything he wanted. It was passionate without that want or need to go to that next level. To take it further until their clothes were on the ground and their bodies mimicked what their lips did. They set a boundary and were more than comfortable staying in those lines. 

By the time they stopped, and yes, it was Ian who stopped them by slowly pushing against Mickey's chest, his body was fully ready. Pumped full of blood, lust and adrenaline, of arousal, ready to make the next step and get as close to Mickey as possible. 

"I could get used to that." Ian said, his voice all but a whisper. 

Mickey smiled and let their heads rest together. "Yeah, that makes two of us."

After their eyes held for what seemed like hours, Ian knew he'd have to be the one to leave. Not just because it was Mickey's dorm room but because even after Mickey set that boundary, he still hadn't moved off his lap, or let him go. Mickey was willing to break it and Ian was willing to let him.

"I should probably head back." 

It wasn't dark outside, but it was close to evening and Ian skipped an entire day of classes. He needed to call one of his friends and get the lessons and material that was covered so he could get a head start and not fall behind.

"Do you have to?"

"No," Ian answered honestly and they both smiled. "But if we don't want to do anything else, I probably should."

"Shit." Mickey realized he was still halfway on his lap and scrambled off, blushing. "I'm sorry."

"Mickey," Ian took his hand and squeezed it, "don't ever be sorry for what you want. Don't be sorry for how you feel."

"I'm not. For once, I'm not sorry about any of that." Mickey said with more confidence than Ian had ever seen on him. 

Ian slid off the bed and Mickey followed, although he kept seated on the end of it, watching him. "Good, because neither am I."

"Can I see you tomorrow?"

"I'd like that." Ian leaned down and kissed his lips softly, then pulled away and it took more force than he expected it would. "Bye."

Just as he made it to the door and reached out for the door knob, his hand hovering above it, he hesitated. He just stood there, trying to leave but they both knew he didn't want to.

"Do you really have to go?" Mickey said again and Ian shut his eyes. 

The choice was taken away from him and he'd never been more grateful. There was no way he could have decided all alone and now he didn't have to. 

"We can study, or catch up on the shit we missed today, or just go to sleep." 

Ian abandoned the door, knowing he couldn't open it. He set his bag back by the door and turned around. Mickey looked scared, like he had back then. Blue eyes wide, begging him to stay, his skin a shade paler than its normal color, like he'd be sick if he left. It wasn't guilt that made Ian stay, he stayed because he wanted to. 

Without trying to seem imposing due to his height and the fact that he was walking towards him slowly, like he was stalking him, Ian stopped in front of him. Mickey looked up at him with the hope a child might and there was no way he could say no. 

"I'd love to stay."

Mickey let out a deep, shaky breath and leaned forward enough so his head rested on Ian's stomach. "Thank you."

He wound one hand into the back of Mickey's hair, stroking it, petting it. Letting the strands slip through his fingers and listened to him breathe for a moment before he leaned down and kissed the top of his head. 

What they had and what they found was confusing, overwhelming and strong enough to either ruin them or give them everything they hoped for. 

They were in it together.

**

They spent the remainder of the night as they had all those years ago. Ian went back to his room for a bit, long enough to grab the Xbox he shared with his roommate, his PSP and half a dozen of the comic books he took with him when he left home and came to college. More specifically, the ones Mickey read. 

He stopped at the cafeteria and put at least twenty dollars worth of snacks and drinks on his account, stopped at the vending machine because the cafeteria didn't have BBQ Pringles and hauled ass back to Mickey's room. 

When he came in with his arms loaded, Mickey cried. He saw the Xbox, the handheld gaming device and all the snacks and just cried. Ian set it all on the floor and all but scooped Mickey into his arms and held him until the shakes stopped, until the tears dried up. 

The intention had been pure. He'd wanted to recreate what they had back then and try to bring back those feelings of safety and happiness. He thought it would be good for them, good for the soul in a way, to have a better night, better memories than the ones that followed the next morning. 

He didn't count on Mickey crying. 

When he was done and resting against his chest, hugging him back, Mickey told him they were happy tears. That he was just so overwhelmed that all that happiness spilled out.

They talked a little more, standing like that in each other's arms, shared a few slow, unrushed kisses before they sat together on the ground, shoulder to shoulder and played. They traded snacks, drinks, both sodas and shots of tequila, smokes, and more pizza. They swapped stories, good ones this time, ones that made Ian laugh so hard soda came out his nose, burning like fire. 

When they got sick of playing that, they moved up on the bed with the bottle of tequila and the rest of Mickey's cigarettes. Ian sat back against the wall, his legs spread so Mickey could sit between them, his back against his chest. Ian quickly read the comics over Mickey's shoulder, they passed the bottle back and forth and drank directly from the rim so each time Mickey drank, Ian could taste him. One cigarette was lit at a time so they didn't have to go get more. Ian kept it between his fingers as he smoked, then twisted it around for Mickey to take a hit or two before it found its way back to his lips. 

It was perfect. Indescribably perfect. They were completely in sync with each other. Ian moved and Mickey countered that move with the one directly after it. It was like they shared one mind, one body, one soul. He'd never been so at ease, so relaxed.

It was bliss. 

When the comics no longer held their attention, they fell into each other without a second thought. By that point the tequila bottle was empty, their smokes were gone and they were once again locked at the lips. Mickey's head was turned back, Ian held his chin and kept the string of slow, wet, glorious kisses going. 

There was no grinding, no shifting of their hips or wandering hands. Tentacles, yes, because they refused to be kept hidden. They were wrapped around him again, around both thighs and his waist, around his neck--something that made a shiver roll down his back. But even then, they kept above his clothes, no more trying to pop the button on his jeans. Maybe a hickey or two from where the suction cups latched onto his neck for too long, but that was fine by him. 

When that ache from kissing got to be too much, they stopped and leaned against each other while those powerful raging hormones died down until they were both just a little tipsy and a lot tired. All that had happened was mentally and physically draining. 

It was clear that Ian wasn't going back to his room. He kind of figured that much but didn't want to just bring a bag over and get the wrong impression. It would add tension that wasn't needed. This way it wasn't planned, they just hung out until they were too tired to keep it up. 

"M' tired." Mickey mumbled and turned until the side of his face was against Ian's chest. He nuzzled his shirt, then held part of it to his nose. 

Ian smiled down at him, stroking his hair again while one of Mickey's tentacles stroked his. "Me too."

"We should sleep." 

"Yes, we should."

Then Mickey sat up and looked at him. "But not together."

"No, not together." Ian pointed to the other bed a few feet away. "Got any sheets for that thing?"

"Nope. They took the sheets along with the rest of that guy's shit."

Ian gave a little hum. "Still looks pretty comfortable."

Mickey snorted out a laugh and looked up to see Ian grinning. "We both know those beds feel like shit without sheets. You can share mine."

"No," Ian said instantly. "That's a bad fucking idea."

"Yeah, but that's what I want." Mickey said and lowered his head into Ian's chest again. His fingers played with the hem of Ian's shirt, lightly touching skin. "Before was nice."

"Before was different." Ian slid his hand down Mickey's neck, tightening a little to massage the muscles. "Our luck we'd end up spooning and waking up with morning wood."

"Morning wood is almost always a guarantee. That's just how it works."

"Yeah, but if I wake up to your ass against me or visa versa it'll be another issue altogether." Ian fought the images racing to the front of his mind. 

Mickey turned again until he could look up without moving and Ian loved that sleepy look on him. "Maybe the floor again, like last time?"

He should have said no. It was the best idea all around. Bed or no bed, those morning wood issues were still very real. 

But he really wanted to sleep next to him. His mind was already made up, he was just fighting with himself. 

"Alright." Ian lightly squeezed his shoulder muscle and Mickey sat up. "But with just your blankets I doubt it'll be any better than that naked bed."

Mickey stood and looked around for a moment and Ian could see the wheels in his mind spinning. "Yank that mattress off the bed, I'll get mine and that should help."

Ian got up and pulled the mattress off the other bedframe and slid it into the floor while Mickey did the same until it looked like a queen sized bed. They worked together stretching the sheets as much as possible, grabbed both of Mickey's pillows and tossed them down. 

It didn't look half bad. 

"I didn't bring anything to sleep in." Ian said and tugged at his uncomfortable jeans. 

"You can take them off and sleep in your boxers."

Ian groaned and Mickey held up his hands in surrender. 

"Or, I might have some shorts."

"Yeah, shorts." Ian kicked his shoes to the side and pulled off his over-shirt until he was in just a tank. When Mickey turned, shorts in hand, blue eyes widened a little and he stopped. "What?"

Mickey shook his head and tossed him the shorts. "Nothing. You wanna change in here or you can use the bathroom?"

Ian thumbed at the bathroom when Mickey took out another pair of baggy shorts for himself. "Bathroom is probably best."

With a quick smile from Mickey, Ian slipped into the bathroom and changed into the shorts. He folded his jeans and left them on the metal rack behind the toilet. He left this tank top on and quickly used Mickey's mouthwash before he gave a gentle knock on the door. 

"Okay to come out?"

Mickey snorted. "No, I'm in here naked waiting for you to pounce."

Ian groaned and put his head against the door for a moment before he opened it. Mickey was on the beds, still in a shirt with the blanket pooled at his hips. Ian let out a little sigh and clicked the light off before he slid in next to him, essentially on the other bed. 

They turned towards each other, sleepy eyes meeting. Sharing a smile. 

"If I wake up and this entire thing was a dream, I'm gonna be mad."

Mickey shook his head. "It feels too real for a dream."

It had to be real. Ian couldn't take it if it wasn't. 

"You're too far away." 

Ian eyed the inch of space between them and smiled. "Any closer and I'll be on top of you."

Blue eyes sparkled and Ian found himself moving closer, taking that last inch until they were breathing the same air. He moved off his pillow and rested on the corner of Mickey's.

"Better?"

Mickey nodded and reached over for Ian's hand. He linked them, his thumb swiping over Ian's knuckles. "Much."

"Good."

As soon as Ian started to drift off, when he couldn't keep his eyes on Mickey's any longer, his head dropped to the side from not being in the pillow enough. He left it of course, happy with or without the damn thing but Mickey couldn't. Ian felt him scoot back, then tug on their linked hands until he was where Mickey had been, fully on the pillow. 

The exhaustion got worse, his eyes were so heavy he couldn't keep them open. 

"Don't leave, okay?" Ian said sleepily, wondering if Mickey could actually hear him and understand fully. 

"I'll be here when you wake up." Mickey's reply was soft and sleepy, just like his. 

With their hands still linked, Ian slid his arm under the pillow, under Mickey's neck and pulled him forward until their heads touched once again and he could feel the warm air from him breathing against his face. He kept his arm there, almost cradling him in his arms. 

Aside from feeling exhausted and emotionally worn out, Ian felt whole. He felt grateful and warm and happy for once. It didn't feel like a piece of him was missing anymore.


End file.
